^ 

^  ^ 

*^*^. 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0  ^^  m 

1.1    l.-^Kfi 
^        MA 

11-25  IM^  u^ 


<3 


Hiotographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WIST  MAIN  STRHT 

WnSTIR.N.Y.  14SM 

(716)  172-4503 


A^ 


'^ 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  institute  for  Historical  I^Aicroreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  da  microraproductions  historiquas 


Tachnical  and  Bibliographic  Notas/Notat  tachniquaa  at  bibliographiquas 


Tha  instituta  has  attamptad  to  obtain  tha  bast 
original  copy  availabia  for  filming.  Faaturas  of  this 
copy  which  may  ba  bibliographically  uniqua. 
which  may  altar  any  of  tha  imagas  in  tha 
raproductioii.  or  which  may  significantly  changa 
tha  usual  mathod  of  filming,  ara  chackad  balow. 


□    Colonrad  covars/ 
Couvartura  da  coulaur 


n~|    Covars  damaged/ 


D 


0 


D 


D 


0 


Couvartura  andommagAa 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaurAe  et/ou  pelliculAe 


I — I   Cover  title  missing/ 


Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 


r  ~]   Colour  9d  maps/ 


Cartes  gAographiques  en  coulaur 

Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 


I     I   Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 


Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material/ 
Reli^  avac  d'autres  documents 


r~7\    Tight  binding  may  causa  shadows  or  distortion 


along  interior  margin/ 

La  re  liure  serrAe  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 

distortion  ie  long  de  la  marge  intAriaura 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
li  se  peut  que  certainas  pages  blanches  aJoutAes 
iors  d'une  restauration  apparaissant  dans  le  texte, 
mais,  lorsque  cela  Atait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  M  fiimias. 


Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  supplAmantaires: 


Varioui  psgings. 


L'Institut  a  microfilm*  la  maillaur  axemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  Ati  possible  de  sa  procurer.  Les  details 
da  cat  axemplaire  qui  sont  paut-Atra  uniques  du 
point  dm  vua  bibliographiqua.  qui  pauvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduita,  ou  qui  pauvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  mAthoda  normale  de  filmage 
aont  indiquAs  ci-dassous. 


I      I   Coloured  pages/ 


V 


D 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  film*  au  taux  de  rMuction  indiqu*  ci-dassous. 


Pages  da  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommagias 

Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Pages  restaurAas  et/ou  pallicuiAes 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  ^r  foxed/ 
Pages  d*color6es.  tachattes  ou  piquAas 

Pages  detached/ 
Pages  d^tach^es 


Showthrough/ 
Transparence 


|~7|    Quality  of  print  varies/ 


Quality  inAgale  de  I'impression 

Inciudes  supplementary  material/ 
Comprend  du  matiriel  supplimentaire 

Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Mition  disponible 


Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscurec  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc..  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partieliement 
obscurcies  par  un  fauiilet  d'errata.  une  peiure. 
etc  ,  ont  it6  filmies  A  nouveau  de  fapon  A 
obtanir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


10X 

14X 

18X 

22X 

2SX 

aox 

1 

n/ 

1 

12X 

16X 

aox 

a4x 

28X 

32X 

TIm  copy  fiim«d  hm  has  bMii  r«produe«d  thanks 
to  th«  9«n«r«Mity  of: 

Univmriity  of  ManitolM 
Winniptg 


L'oxomplairo  ftlmA  fut  roproduH  grico  i  la 
O^nAroaM  da: 

Univtnity  of  Manitoba 
Winnipeg 


Tha  imagaa  appaaring  hara  ara  tha  baat  quality 
posalMa  conaidaring  tha  condition  and  lagibillty 
of  tha  original  copy  and  in  iiaaping  with  tha 
filming  contract  apacif icationa. 


Original  copiaa  in  printad  papar  covara  ara  fllmad 
baglnning  with  tha  front  covar  and  anding  on 
tha  last  paga  with  a  printad  or  liluatratad  impraa- 
alon,  or  tha  back  covar  whan  appropriata.  All 
othar  original  copiaa  ara  fllmad  baglnning  on  tha 
first  paga  with  a  printad  or  liluatratad  impraa- 
aion.  and  anding  on  tha  laat  paga  with  a  printad 
or  liluatratad  impraaaton. 


Tlia  laat  racordad  frama  on  aach  microficha 
aliall  contain  tha  symbol  —^(moaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  tha  aymbol  y  (moaning  "END"), 
whichavar  appiiaa. 


Laa  Imagaa  suivantaa  ont  Ati  raproduitas  avac  la 
plua  grand  aoin.  compta  tanu  da  la  condition  at 
da  la  nattatA  da  I'axamplaira  filmA,  at  an 
confor^nltA  avac  las  conditions  du  contrat  da 
fiimaga. 

Laa  axampiairaa  origlnaux  dont  la  couvartura  •n 
paplar  aat  ImprimAa  sont  filmAs  sn  comman9ant 
par  la  pramiar  plat  at  an  tarminant  soit  par  la 
darnlAra  paga  qui  comporta  una  amprainta 
d'impraaaion  ou  d'llluatration.  soit  par  la  sacond 
plat,  sakNt  la  caa.  Tous  las  autras  axampiairaa 
origlnaux  aont  fiimia  an  commandant  par  la 
pramiAra  paga  qui  comporta  una  amprainta 
d'imprassion  ou  dUiustration  at  •n  tarminant  par 
la  damlAra  paga  qui  comporta  una  talla 
amprainta. 

Un  das  symbolaa  sulvants  apparattra  sur  la 
damlAra  imaga  da  chaqua  microficha,  salon  la 
caa:  la  symbols  — »•  signifia  "A  8UIVRE",  la 
symbols  ▼  signifia  "FIN". 


Mapa.  piatas.  charts,  ate.,  may  ba  fllmad  at 
diffarant  raductlon  ratioa.  Thoaa  too  larga  to  ba 
antlraly  includad  in  ona  axpoaura  ara  fllmad 
baglnning  in  tha  uppar  laft  hand  comar,  laft  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  aa  many  framaa  aa 
raquirad.  Tha  following  diagrama  liluatrata  tha 
mathod: 


Laa  cartaa,  planchas,  tabiaaux,  ate,  pauvant  *tra 
fllmte  k  dea  taux  da  reduction  diffirants. 
Loraqua  la  document  ast  trap  grand  pour  Atra 
raproduit  an  un  saul  ciichA,  il  ast  film*  A  partir 
da  I'angla  aupAriaur  gaucha,  da  gauclM  A  droita, 
at  da  haut  mt  but,  an  pranant  la  nombra 
d'Imagaa  nAcassaira.  Las  diagram  mas  suivants 
illuatrant  la  mAthoda. 


1 

2 

3 

»x 


12  3 

4  5,6 


ZTbe  a^t>enture0  of  Captain 
Sonneville 


r 


f>an^c  Volume  SDftfon 


Captain  Bonneville 


•        By 

IVashington  Irving 


\ 


G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 

New  York  and  London 
Zbe  f(nicftecbocfier  pre00 


of 

N( 
tic 
Ai 
Ti 
to 
tui 
in* 

Rc 

lui 


liai 

of 

kit 

tra 

ex] 


f ntro&ucton?  floticc^ 


WHILE  engaged  in  writing  an  account 
of  the  grand  enterprise  of  Astoria, 
it  was  my  practice  to  seek  all  kinds 
of  oral  information  connected  with  the  supject. 
Nowhere  did  I  pick  up  more  interesting  par- 
ticulars than  at  the  table  of  Mr.  John  Jacob 
Astor ;  who,  being  the  patriarch  of  the  Fur 
Trade  in  the  United  States,  was  accustomed 
to  have  at  his  board  various  persons  of  adven- 
turous turn,  some  of  whom  had  been  engaged 
in  his  own  great  undertaking ;  others,  on  their 
own  account,  had  made  expeditions  to  the 
Rocky  Mountains  and  the  waters  of  the  Co- 
lumbia. 

Among  these  personages,  one  who  pecu- 
liarly took  my  fancy,  was  Captain  Bonneville, 
of  the  United  States  army  ;  who,  in  a  rambling 
kind  of  enterprise,  had  strangely  ingrafted  the 
trapper  and  hunter  upon  the  soldier.  As  his 
expeditions  and  adventures  will  form  the  lead- 


UNIVERSITY  OF  MANITOBA 
JUNIOR  LIBIIARY 


v!  f  ntroDucton?  I^otice 

ing  theme  of  the  following  pages,  a  few  bio- 
graphical particulars  concerning  him  may  not 
be  unacceptable. 

Captain  Bonneville  is  of  French  parentage. 
His  father  was  a  worthy  old  emigrant,  who 
came  to  this  country  many  years  since,  and 
took  up  his  abode  in  New  York.  He  is  repre- 
sented as  a  man  not  much  calculated  for  the 
sordid  struggle  of  a  money-making  world,  but 
possessed  of  a  happy  temperament,  a  festivity 
of  imagination,  and  a  simplicity  of  heart,  that 
made  him  proof  against  its  rubs  and  trials. 
He  was  an  excellent  scholar  ;  well  acquainted 
with  lyatin  and  Greek,  and  fond  of  the  moaeni 
classics.  His  book  was  his  elysium  ;  once  im- 
mersed in  the  pages  of  Voltaire,  Corneille,  or 
Racine,  or  of  his  favorite  English  author, 
Shakespeare,  he  forgot  the  world  and  all  its 
concerns.  Often  would  he  be  seen  in  summer 
weather,  seated  under  one  of  the  trees  on  the 
Battery,  or  the  portico  of  St.  Paul's  Church 
in  Broadway,  his  bdld  head  uncovered,  his  hat 
lying  by  his  side,  his  eyes  riveted  to  the  page 
of  his  book,  and  his  whole  soul  so  engaged, 
as  to  lose  all  consciousness  of  the  passing/ 
throng  or  the  passing  hour. 

Captain  Bonneville,  it  will  be  found,  inherited 
some  of  his  father's  bonhomie,  and  his  excitable 
imagination ;    though    the  latter   was   some- 


1ntro^uctore  Notice 


▼h 


what  disciplined  in  early  years,  by  mathemati- 
cal studies.  He  was  educated  at  our  national 
Military  Academy  at  West  Point,  where  he 
acquitted  himself  very  creditably  ;  thence,  he 
entered  the  army,  in  which  he  has  ever  since 
continued. 

The  nature  of  our  military  service  took  him 
to  the  frontier,  where,  for  a  number  of  years, 
he  was  stationed  at  various  posts  in  the  Far 
West.  Here  he  was  brought  into  frequent 
intercourse  with  Indian  traders,  mountain 
trappers,  and  other  pioneers  of  the  wilderness  ; 
and  became  so  excited  by  their  tales  of  wild 
scenes  and  wild  adventures,  and  their  accounts 
of  vast  and  magnificent  regions  as  yet  unex- 
plored, that  an  expedition  to  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains became  the  ardent  desire  of  his  heart,  and 
an  enterprise  to  explore  untrodden  tracts,  the 
leading  object  of  his  ambition. 

By  degrees  he  shaped  this  vague  day-dream 
into  a  practical  reality.  Having  made  himself 
acquainted  with  all  the  requisites  for  a  trading 
enterprise  beyond  the  mountaiiis,  he  determined 
to  undertake  it.  A  leave  of  absence,  and  a 
sanction  of  his  expedition,  was  obtained  from 
the  major-general  in  chief,  on  his  offering  to 
combine  public  utility  with  his  private  projects, 
and  to  collect  statistical  information  for  the 
War  Department,  concerning  the  wild  countries 


tlii 


f  ntro^uctors  notice 


and  wild  tribes  he  might  visit  in  the  course  of 
his  journeyings. 

Nothing  now  was  wanting  to  the  darling 
project  of  the  captain,  but  the  waj's  and  means. 
The  expedition  would  require  an  outfit  of 
many  thousand  dollars  ;  a  staggering  obstacle 
to  a  soldier,  whose  capital  is  seldom  anything 
more  than  his  sword.  Full  of  that  buoyant 
hope,  however,  which  belongs  to  the  sanguine 
temperament,  he  repaired  to  New  York,  the 
great  focus  of  American  enterprise,  where 
there  are  always  funds  ready  for  any  scheme, 
however  chimerical  or  romantic.  Here  he  had 
the  good  fortune  to  meet  with  a  gentleman  of 
high  respectability  and  influence,  who  had  been 
his  associate  in  boyhood,  and  who  cherished  a 
school-fellow  friendship  for  him.  He  took  a 
general  interest  in  the  scheme  of  the  captain  ; 
introduced  him  to  commercial  men  of  his  ac- 
quaintance, and  in  a  little  while  an  association 
was  formed,  and  the  necessary  funds  were 
raised  to  carry  the  proposed  measure  into  effect. 
One  of  the  most  eflScient  persons  in  this  associ- 
ation was  Mr.  Alfred  Seton,  who,  when  quite 
a  youth,  had  accompanied  one  of  the  expedi- 
tions sent  out  by  Mr.  Astor  to  his  commercial 
establishments  on  the  Columbia,  and  had  dis- 
tinguished himself  by  his  activity  and  courage 
at  one  of  the  interior  posts.     Mr.  Seton  was 


Introductors  notice 


Ix 


one  of  the  American  youths  who  were  at  Astoria 
at  the  time  of  its  surrender  to  the  British,  and 
who  manifested  such  grief  and  indignation  ac 
seeing  the  flag  of  their  country  hauled  down. 
The  hope  of  seeing  that  flag  once  more  planted 
on  the  shores  of  the  Columbia,  may  have 
entered  into  his  motives  for  engaging  in  the 
present  enterprise. 

Thus  backed  and  provided,  Captain  Bonne- 
ville undertook  his  expedition  into  the  Far 
West,  and  was  soon  beyond  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains. Year  after  year  elapsed  without  his 
return.  The  term  of  his  leave  of  absence 
expired,  yet  no  report  was  made  of  him  at 
headquarters  at  Washington.  He  was  con- 
sidered virtually  dead  or  lost,  and  his  name 
was  stricken  from  the  army  list. 

It  was  in  the  autumn  of  1835,  at  the  country 
seat  of  Mr.  John  Jacob  Astor,  at  Hellgate,  that 
I  first  met  with  Captain  Bonneville.  He  was 
then  just  returned  from  a  residence  of  upwards 
of  three  years  among  the  mountains,  and  was 
on  his  way  to  report  himself  at  headquarters, 
in  the  hopes  of  being  reinstated  in  the  service. 
From  all  that  I  could  learn,  his  wanderings  in 
the  wilderness,  though  they  had  gratified  his 
curiosity  and  his  love  of  adventure,  had  not 
much  benefited  his  fortunes.  I,ike  Corporal 
Trim  in  his  campaigns,  he  had  "  satisfied  the 


11 


X  introductcris  Hotfce 

sentiment,"  and  that  was  all.  In  fact,  he  was 
too  much  of  the  frank,  free-hearted  soldier, 
and  had  inherited  too  much  of  his  father's  tern- 
perament,  to  make  a  scheming  trapper,  or  a 
thrifty  bargainer.  There  was  something  in 
the  whole  appearance  of  the  captain  that  pre- 
possessed me  in  his  favor.  He  was  of  the 
middle  size,  well  made  and  well  set ;  and  a 
military  frock  of  foreign  cut,  that  had  seen 
service,  gave  him  a  look  of  compactness.  His 
countenance  was  frank,  open,  and  engaging; 
well  browned  by  the  sun,  and  had  something 
of  a  French  expression.  He  had  a  pleasant 
black  eye,  a  high  forehead,  and  while  he  kept 
his  hat  on,  the  look  of  a  man  in  the  jocund 
prime  of  his  days ;  but  the  moment  his  head 
was  uncovered,  a  bald  crown  gained  him  credit 
for  a  few  more  years  than  he  was  really  enti- 
tled to. 

Being  extremely  curious,  at  the  time,  about 
everything  connected  with  the  Far  West,  I 
addressed  numerous  questions  to  him.  They 
drew  from  him  a  number  of  extremely  strik- 
ing details,  which  were  given  with  mingled 
modesty  and  frankness ;  and  in  a  gentleness 
of  manner,  and  a  soft  tone  of  voice,  contrast- 
ing singularly  with  the  wild  and  often  start- 
ling nature  of  his  themes.  It  was  difficult  to 
conceive    the    mild,    quiet-looking    personage 


f  ntro^uctori2  Vloticc 


xt 


before  you,  the  actual  hero  of  the  stirring 
scenes  related. 

In  the  course  of  three  or  four  months,  hap- 
pening to  be  at  the  city  of  Washington,  I 
again  came  upon  the  captain,  who  was  at- 
tending the  slow  adj  ustment  of  his  affairs  with 
the  War  Department.  I  found  him  quartered 
with  a  worthy  brother  in  arms,  a  major  in 
the  army.  Here  he  was  writing  at  a  table, 
covered  with  maps  and  papers,  in  the  centre 
of  a  large  barrack  room,  fancifully  decorated 
with  Indian  arms,  and  trophies,  and  war 
dresses,  and  the  skins  of  various  wild  animals, 
and  hung  round  with  pictures  of  Indian  games 
and  ceremonies,  and  scenes  of  war  and  hunt- 
ing. In  a  word,  the  captain  was  beguiling  the 
tediousness  of  attendance  at  court,  by  an  at- 
tempt at  authorship ;  and  was  rewriting  and 
extending  his  travelling  notes,  and  making 
maps  of  the  regions  he  had  explored.  As  he 
sat  at  the  table,  in  this  curious  apartment,  with 
his  high  bald  head  of  somewhat  foreign  cast, 
he  reminded  me  of  some  of  those  antique  pic- 
tures of  authors  that  I  have  seen  in  old  Spanish 
volumes. 

The  result  of  his  labors  was  a  mass  of  manu- 
script, which  he  subsequently  put  at  my  dis- 
posal, to  fit  it  for  publication  and  bring  it  be- 
fore the  world.     I  found  it  full  of  interesting 


x:i 


f  ntroDuctor^  l^otice 


'li 


details  of  life  among  the  mountains,  and  of 
the  singular  castes  and  races,  both  white  men 
and  red  men,  among  whom  he  had  sojourned. 
It  bore,  too,  throughout,  the  impress  of  his 
character,  his  bonhomie^  his  kindliness  of 
spirit,  and  his  susceptibility  to  the  grand  and 
beautiful. 

That  manuscript  has  formed  the  staple  of 
the  following  work.  I  have  occasionally  in- 
terwoven facts  and  details,  gathered  from 
various  sources,  especially  from  the  conversa- 
tions and  journals  of  some  of  the  captain's 
contemporaries,  who  were  actors  in  the  scenes 
he  describes.  I  have  also  given  it  a  tone  and 
coloring  drawn  from  my  own  observation,  dur- 
ing an  excursion  into  the  Indian  country  be- 
yond the  bounds  of  civilization ;  as  I  before 
observed,  however,  the  work  is  substantially 
the  narrative  of  the  worthy  captain,  and  many 
of  its  most  graphic  passages  are  but  little 
varied  from  his  own  language. 

I  shall  conclude  this  notice  by  a  dedication 
which  he  had  made  of  his  manuscript  to  his 
hospitable  brother  in  arms,  in  whose  quarters 
I  found  him  occupied  in  his  literary  labors  ;  it 
is  a  dedication  which,  I  believe,  possesses  the 
qualities,  not  always  found  in  complimentary 
documents  of  the  kind,  of  being  sincere,  and 
being  merited.  V 


IntroDuctorc  notice 


XlU 


JAMES  HARVEY  HOOK, 

MAJOR  U.  8.  A. 

WHOSE  JEAI.OUSY  OF  ITS  HONOR, 
WHOSE  ANXIETY  FOR  ITS  INTERESTS, 

AND 
WHOSE  SENSIBII.ITY  FOR  ITS  WANTS, 
HAVE  ENDEARED  HIM  TO  THE  SERVICE  AS 

^be  SolOiec'0  #deno ; 

AND    WHOSE    GENERAI,    AMENITY,    CONSTANT 

CHEERFULNESS,  DISINTERESTED  HOSPI- 

TAUTY,  AND  UNWEARIED  BENEVO- 

I,ENCE,  ENTITI.E  HIM  TO  THE 

STII.I.  I.OFTIER  TITLE  OF 

THE   FRIEND   OF   MAN, 

THIS  WORK  IS  INSCRIBED, 
ETC. 

New  Ybrkf  1843. 


I*    ' 


'III 

"Si  I. 


« 

In- 
ch 

> 

i 

Ca 

\ 


Contents^—part  f  ♦ 


Introductory  Notice 


Chap.  I.— State  of  the  Fur  Trade  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains  —  American  Enterprises — General 
Ashley  and  his  Associates — Sublette,  a  Fam- 
ous Leader — Yearly  Rendezvous  among  the 
Mountains — Stratagems  and  Dangers  of  the 
Trade  —  Bands  of  Trappers— Indian  Banditti 
— Crows  and  Blackfeet— Mountaineers — Trad- 
ers of  the  Far  West — Character  and  Habits 
of  the  Trapper i 

Chap.  II. — Departure  from  Fort  Osage— Modes 
of  Transportation — Pack  Horses — Wagons — 
Walker  and  Cerr^ ;  their  Characters — Buoyant 
Feelings  on  Launching  upon  the  Prairies — 
Wild  Equipments  of  the  Trappers  —  Their 
Gambols  and  Antics — Difference  of  Character 
between  the  American  and  French  Trappers 
— Agency  of  the  Kansas — General  Clarke — 
White  Plume,  the  Kansas  Chief— Night  Scene 
in  a  Trader's  Camp — Colloquy  between  White 
Plume  and  the  Captain — Bee-hunters — Their 
Expeditions — Their  Feuds  with  the  Indians 
— Bargaining  Talent  of  White  Plume     .        .     15 


VOL,  1. 


XV 


xv! 


Content0 


I 


PAOB 

Chap.  III.  —Wide  Prairies— Vegetable  Productions 
— Tabular  Hills — Slabs  of  Sandstone — Ne- 
braska or  Platte  River — Scanty  Fare — Buffalo 
Skulls — Wagons  Turned  into  Boats — Herds  of 
Buffalo  —  Cliffs  Resembling  Castles  —  The 
Chimney  —  Scott's  Bluffs — Story  Connected 
with  Them  —  The  Bighorn  or  Ahsahta,  —  Its 
Nature  and  Habits — Difference  between  that 
and  the  "  Woolly  Sheep,"  or  Goat  of  the 
Mountains 38 

Chap.  IV. — An  Alarm— Crow  Indians — Their  Ap- 
pearance— Mode  ot  Approach — Their  Venge- 
ful Errand — Their  Curiosity — Hostility  be- 
tween the  Crows  and  Black  feet  —  Loving 
Conduct  of  the  Crows — Laramie's  Fork — First 
Navigation  of  the  Nebraska — Great  Elevation 
of  the  Country — Rarity  of  the  Atmosphere — 
Its  Effect  on  the  Wood-work  of  Wagons — 
Black  Hills— Their  Wild  and  Broken  Scenery 
— Indian  Dogs — Crow  Trophies — Sterile  and 
Dreary  Country — Banks  of  the  Sv/eet  Water 
— Buffalo  Hunting — Adventure  of  Tom  Cain, 
the  Irish  Cook 39 

Chap.  V. — Magnificent  Scenery — Wind  River 
Mountains  —  Treasury  of  Waters  —  A  Stray 
Horse— An  Indian  Trail — Trout  Streams — 
The  Great  Green  River  Valley— An  Alarm — 
A  Band  of  Trappers — Fontenelle,  his  Infor-  < 
mation — Sufferings  of  Thirst— Encampment 
on  the  Seeds-ke-dee — Strategy  of  Rival  Trad- 
ers— Forti  fication  of  the  Camp — ^The  Blackfeet 
— Banditti  of  the  Mountains — Their  Character 
and  Habits        .        .        .        .       .        .        •  \  54 


Cotitent0 


ZVU 


PAOB 


Chap.  VI.  —  Sublette  and  his  Band  —  Robert 
Campbell — Mr.  Wyeth  and  a  Band  of"  Down- 
easters  " — Yankee  Enterprise— Fitzpatrick — 
His  Adventure  with  the  Black  feet — A  Rendez- 
vous of  Mountaineers — The  Battle  of  Pierre's 
Hole  —  An  Indian  Ambuscade  —  Sublette's 
Return 68 


Chap.  VII.— Retreat  of  the  Black  feet— Fonte- 
nelle's  Camp  in  Danger — Captain  Bonneville 
and  the  Blackfeet  —  Free  Trappers  —  Their 
Character,  Habits,  Dress,  Equipments,  Horses 
— Game  Fellows  of  the  Mountains  —  Their 
Visit  to  the  Camp — Good  Fellowship  and 
Good  Cheer — A  Carouse — A  Swagger,  a  Brawl, 
and  a  Reconciliation        .        .        .        .        .    89 

Chap.  VIH.— Plans  for  the  Winter— Salmon  River 
— Abundance  of  Salmon  West  of  the  Moun- 
tains— New  Arrangements— Caches — Cerr^'s 
Detachment  —  Movements  in  Fontenelle's 
Camp  —  Departure  of  the  Blackfeet  —  Their 
Fortunes — Wind  Mountain  Streams — Buck- 
eye, the  Delaware  Hunter,  and  the  Grizzly 
Bear — Bones  of  Murdered  Travellers — Visit  to 
Pierre's  Hole — ^Traces  of  the  Battle — Nez 
Perc4  Indians— Arrival  at  Salmon  River   •     ,    98 

Chap.  IX. — Horses  Turned  Loose — Preparations 
for  Winter  Quarters  —  Hungry  Times  —  Nez 
Percys,  their  Honesty,  Piety,  Pacific  Habits, 
Religious  Ceremonies — Captain  Botineville's 
Conversation  with  Them  —  Their  Love  of 
Gambling .        .        ,       ^.        .,        ...  no 


xviu 


Content0 


Chap.  X.— Blackfeet  in  the  Horse  Prairie— Search 
after  the  Hunters— Difficulties  and  Dangers 
—A  Card  Party  in  the  Wilderness— The  Card 
Party  Interrupted — **  Old  Sledge,"  a  Losing 
Game — Visitors  to  the  Camp— Iroquois  Hunt- 
ers— Hanging-Eared  Indians   .... 


PAOB 


ii8 


ill      '! 


Chap.  XI. — Rival  Trapping  Parties — Manceuvriug 
— A  Desperate  Game — Vanderburgh  and  the 
Blackfeet  —  Deserted  Camp  Fires  —  A  Dark 
Defile — An  Indian  Ambush — A  Fierce  Mel^e 
—  Fatal  Consequences  —  Fitzpatrick  and 
Bridger  —  Trappers'  Precautions  —  Meeting 
with  the  Blackfeet  —  More  Fighting  — 
Anecdote  of  a  Young  Mexican  and  an  Indian 
Girl 125 

Chap  XII.— A  Winter  Camp  in  the  Wilderness — 
Medley  of  Trappers,  Hunters,  and  Indians — 
Scarcity  of  Game — New  Arrangements  in  the 
Camp  —  Detachments  Sent  to  a  Distance  — 
Carelessness  of  the  Indians  when  Encamped 
.  — Sickness  among  the  Indians — Excellent 
Character  of  the  Nez  Percys — The  Captain's 
Effort  as  a  Pacificator — A  Nez  Percy's  Argu- 
ment in  Favor  of  War  —  Robberies  by  the 
Blackfeet — Long-Suffering  of  the  Nez  Percys 
— A  Hunter's  Elysium  among  the  Mountains  , 
— More  Robberies — The  Captain  Preaches  up 
a  Crusade — The  EflFect  upon  his  Heaiers        .  135 


Chap.  XIII.— Story    of  Kosato,    the   Renegade 
Blackfoot  ....        .        .        .        .V 152 


Content0 


x!x 


Chap.  XIV.— The  Party  Enters  the  Mountain 
Gorge — A  Wild  Fastness  among  the  Hills — 
Mountain  Mutton — Peace  and  Plenty — ^The 
Amorous  Trapper — A  Piebald  Wedding — A 
Free  Trapper's  Wife— Her  Gala  Equipments 
— Christmas  in  the  Wilderness        . 


PAOB 


158 


Chap.  XV.  —  A  Hunt  after  Hunters  —  Hungry 
Times  —  A  Voracious  Repast  —  Wintry 
Weather— Godin's  River — Splendid  Winter 
Scene  on  the  Great  Lava  Plain  of  Snake  River 
—  Severe  Travelling  and  Tramping  in  the 
Snow — MancEuvres  of  a  Solitary  Indian  Horse- 
man— Encampment  on  Snake  River— Ban- 
neck  Indians  —  The  Horse  Chief — His 
Charmed  Life    .        .        .        .        .        ,        .  167 

Chap.  XVI. — Misadventures  of  Matthieu  and  His 
Patty — Return  to  the  Caches  at  Salmon  River 
— Battle  between  Nez  Percys  and  Blackfeet — 
Heroism  of  a  Nez  Perc€  Woman— Enrolled 
among  the  Braves     ......  181 

Chap.  XVII. — Opening  of  the  Caches— Detach- 
ment of  Cerr^  and  Hodgkiss— Salmon  River 
Mountains — Superstition  of  an  Indian  Trap- 
per— Godin's  River— Preparations  for  Trap- 
ping— An  Alarm — An  Interruption — A  Rival 
Band — Phenomena  of  Snake  River  Plain — 
Vast  Clefts  and  Chasms — Ingulfed  Streams — 
Sublime  Scenery — A  Grand  Buffalo  Hunt       .  191 

Chap.  XVIII. — Meeting  with  Hodgkiss— Misfor- 
tunes of  the  Nez  Percys— Schemes  of  Kosato, 
the    Renegado— His  Foray   into  the  Horse 


■  I 


Content0 


PAOB 

Prairie — Invasion  of  Blackfeet  — Blue  John, 
and  his  Forlorn  Hope  —  Their  Generous 
Enterprise — Their  Fate — Consternation  and 
Despair  of  the  Village — Solemn  Obsequies — 
Attempt  at  Indian  Trade  —  Hudson's  Bay 
Company's  Monopoly  —  Arrangements  for 
Autumn — Breaking  up  of  an  Encampment    .  202 

Chap.  XIX. — Precautions  in  Dangerous  Defiles 
— ^Trappers'  Mode  of  Defense  on  a  Prairie — 
A  Mysterious  Visitor  —  Arrival  in  Green 
River  Valley — Adventures  of  the  Detach- 
ments— The  Forlorn  Partisan — His  Tale  of 
Disasters 216 

Chap.  XX.— Gathering  in  Green  River  Valley— 
Visitings  and  Feastings  of  Leaders — Rough 
Wassailing  among  the  Trappers — Wild  Blades 
of  the  Mountains— Indian  Belles — Potency  of 
Bright  Beads  and  Red  Blankets — Arrival  of 
Supplies — Revelry  and  Extravagance — Mad 
Wolves — The  Lost  Indian        ....  226 

Chap.  XXI. — Schemes  of  Captain  Bonneville— 
The  Great  Salt  Lake  —Expedition  to  Explore 
it  —  Preparations  for  a  Journey  to  the 
Bighorn 232 

Chap.  XXII.  —  The  Crow  Country  —  A  Crow 
Paradise — Habits  of  the  Crows — Anecdotes 
of  Rose,  the  Renegade  White  Man — His 
Fights  with  the  Blackfeet — His  Elevation 
— His  Death — Arapooish,  the  Crow  Chief— 
His  Eagle— Adventure  of  Robert  Campbell 
— Honor  among  Crows 239 


[1      tiii 


Contente 


ui 


PAOS 


Chap.  XXIII.—  Departure  from  Green  River 
Valley — Popo  Agie — Its  Course— The  Rivers 
into  which  it  Runs— Scenery  of  the  Bluffs — 
The  Great  Tar  Spring — Volcanic  Tracts  in 
the  Crow  Country —Burning  Mountain  of 
Powder  River  —  Sulphur  Springs  —  Hidden 
Fires— Colter's  Hell— Wind  River— Carajv 
bell's  Party — Fitzpatrick  and  his  Trappers- 
Captain  Stewart,  an  Amateur  Traveller — 
Nathaniel  Wyeth — Anecdotes  of  his  Expedi- 
tion to  the  Far  West— Disaster  of  Campbell's 
Party— A  Union  of  Bands — The  Bad  Pass — 
The  Rapids — Departure  of  Fitzpatrick — Em- 
barkation of  Peltries — Wyeth  and  his  Bull 
Boat — Adventures  of  Captain  Bonneville  in 
the  Bighorn  Mountains — Adventures  in  the 
Plain— Traces  of  Indians — Travelling  Precau- 
tions— Dangers  of  Making  a  Smoke — ^The 
Rendezvous 250 

Chap.  XXIV.— Adventures  of  the  Party  of  Ten 
—The  Balaamite  Mule— A  Dead  Point— The 
Mysterious  Elks — A  Night  Attack — A  Retreat 
—  Travelling  Under  an  Alarm  —  A  Joyful 
Meeting — Adventures  of  the  Other  Party — A 
Decoy  Elk — Retreat  to  an  Island — A.  Savage 
Dance  of  Triumph — Arrival  at  Wind  River    .  264 

Chap.  XXV.— Captain  Bonneville  Sets  Out  for 
Green  River  Valley— Journey  up  the  Popo 
Agie — Buffaloes — The  Staring  White  Bears — 
The  Smoke — The  Warm  Springs — Attempt  to 
Traverse  the  Wind  River  Mountains — The 
Great  Slope — Mountain  Dells  and  Chasms — 


xxii 


Content0 


VAQU 

Crystal  Lakes — Ascent  of  a  Snowy  Peak — 
Sublime  Prospect  —  A  Panorama  —  *'  Les 
Dignes  de  Pitie,"  or  Wild  Men  of  the  Moun- 
tains   272 

Chap.  XXVI.— A  Retrograde  Move— Channel  of 
a  Mountain  Torrent — Alpine  Scenery — Cas- 
cades— Beaver  Valleys — Beavers  at  Work — 
Their  Architectiire — Their  Modes  of  Felling 
Trees — Mode  of  Trapping  Beaver — Contests 
of  Skill— A  Beaver  "Up  to  Trap"— Arrival 
at  the  Green  River  Caches      .... 

Chap.  XXVII.— Route  Towards  Wind  River—  284 
Dangerous  Neighborhood — Alarms  and  Pre- 
cautions— A  Sham  Encampment — Apparition 
of  an  Indian  Spy — Midnight  Move — A  Moun- 
tain Defile— The  Wind  River  Valley— Track- 
ing a  Party — Deserted  Camps — Symptoms  of 
Crows — Meeting  of  Comrades — A  Trapper 
Entrapped — Crow  Pleasantry — Crow  Spies — 
A  Decampment  —  Return  tc  Green  River 
Valley — Meeting  with  Fitzpatrick's  Party — 
Their  Adventures  among  the  Crows — Ortho- 
dox Crows 294 

Chap.  XXVIii.— A  Region  of  Natural  Curiosities 
—The  Plain  of  White  Clay— Hot  Springs— 
The  Beer  Spring — Departure  to  Seek  the  Free 
Trappers— Plain  of  Portneuf— I^ava — Chasms 
and  Gullies — Banneck  Indians— Their  Hunt 
of  the  Buffalo  —  Hunters'  Feast  —  Trencher 
Heroes — Bullyi?ig  of  an  Absent  Foe — The 
Damp  Comrade  -  '^he  Tudian  Spy — Meeting 
with  Hodgkiss— His   /idventkres — Poordevil 


ill: 

ri; 


Content0 


Indians— Triumph  of  the  Banneck^ 
feet  Policy  in  War   .... 


xxiii 


PAOK 

-Black - 


310 


Chap.  XXIX.— Winter  Camp  at  the  Portneuf— 
Fine  Springs — The  Banneck  Indians — Their 
Honesty — Captain  Bonneville  Prepares  for 
an  Expedition—Christmas — The  American 
Falls— VM(J  Scenery— Fishing  Falls— Snake 
Indi  .is--3cci,  iry  on  the  Bruneau — View  of 
Volcmi'  Country  from  a  Mountain — Powder 
R<  rer — Sboshokoes,  or  Root  Diggers — Their 
Character,  Habits,  Habitations,  Dogs— Vanity 
at  its  Last  Shift 


324 


Contents*— part  If  ♦ 


Chap.  I. — ^Temperature  of  the  Climate — Root  Dig- 
gers on  Horseback  —  An  Indian  Guide — 
Mountain  Prospects — The  Grand  Rond — Diffi- 
culties on  Snake  River — A  Scramble  over  the 
Blue  Mountains — Sufferings  from  Hunger- 
Prospect  of  the  Immahah  Valley — The  Ex- 
hausted Traveller 

Chap.  II. — Progress  in  the  Valley— An  Indian 
Cavalier — The  Captain  Falls  into  a  Lethargy 
— A  Nez  Perc^  Patriarch — Hospitable  Treat- 
ment— The  Bald  Head — Bargaining — Value  of 
an  Old  Plaid  Cloak— The  Family  Horse— The 
Cost  of  an  Indian  Present        .... 


PAGB 


14 


Chap.  III.— Nez  Perc€  Camp— A  Chief  with  a 
Hard  Name— The  Big  Hearts  of  the  East— 
Hospitable  Treatment — The  Indian  Guides — 
Mysterious  Councils — The  Loquacious  Chief 
— Indian  Tomb — Grand  Indian  Reception — 
An  Indian  Feast — Town  Criers — Honesty  of 
the  Nez  Perces — The  Captain's  Attempt  at 
Healing 25 

Chap.  IV. — Scenery  of  the  Way -lee-way — A  Subs- 
titute for  Tobacco — Sublime  Scenery  of  Snake 


VOL.  11. 


I 


Contente 


PAOB 

River — The  Garrulous  old  Chief  and  his 
Cousin — A  Nez  Perc6  Meeting— A  Stolen 
Skin — The  Scapegoat  Dog — Mysterious  Con- 
ferences— The  Little  Chief — His  Hospitality 
— The  Captain's  Account  of  the  United  States 
— His  Healing  Skill 39 

Chap.  V.— Fort  Wallah-Wallah— Its  Commander 
— Indians  in  its  Neighborhood — Exertions  of 
Mr.  Pambrune  for  their  Improvement — Re- 
ligion— Code  of  Laws — Range  of  the  Lower 
Nez  Percds  — Camash,  and  other  Roots — Nez 
Percys  Horses — Preparations  for  Departure — 
Refusal  of  Supplies — Departure — A  Laggard 
and  Glutton 54 

Chap.  VI.— The  Uninvited  Guest— Free  and  Easy 
Manners — Salutary  Jokes — A  Prodigal  Son  — 
Exit  of  the  Glutton — A  Sudden  Change  in 
Fortune — Danger  of  a  Visit  to  Poor  Relations 
— Plucking  of  a  Prosperous  Man — A  Vagabond 
Toilet — A  Substitute  for  the  Very  Fine  Horse 
— Hard  Travelling — The  Uninvited  Guest  and 
the  Patriarchal  Colt — A  Beggar  on  Horseback 
— A  Catastrophe — Exit  of  the  Merry  Vagabond    63 

Chap.  VII.— The  Difficult  Mountain— A  Smoke 
and  Consultation — The  Captain's  Speech — ^An 
Icy  Turnpike — Danger  of  a  False  Step — Ar- 
rival on  Snake  River — Return  to  Portneuf— • 
Meeting  of  Comrades 75 

Chap.  VIII. — Departure  for  the  Rendezvous — A 

.  War  Party  of  Blackfeet — A  Mock  Bustle — 

Sham  Fires  at  Night — Warlike  Precautions — 

Dangers  of  a  Night  Attack — A  Panic  among 


Contents 


Yii 


PAGE 

Horses — Cautious  March — The  Beer  Springs 
— A  Mock  Carousal— Skirmishing  with  Buffa- 
loes— A  Buffalo  Bait — Arrival  at  the  Ren- 
dezvous— Meeting  of  Various  Bands      .        .     84 

Chap.  IX.— Plan  of  the  Salt  Lake  Expedition — 
Great  Sandy  Deserts — Sufferings  from  Thirst 
— Ogden's  River — Trails  and  Smoke,  of  Lurk- 
ing Savages — Thefts  at  Night — A  Trapper's 
Revenge — Alarms  of  a  Guilty  Conscience — 
A  Murderous  Victory — Californian  Mountains 
— Plains  Along  the  Pacific — Arrival  at  Mon- 
terey— Account  of  the  Place  and  Neighbor- 
hood— Lower  California  —  Its  Extent  —  The 
Peninsula — Soil — Climate  —  Production — Its 
Settlement  by  the  Jesuits — ^Their  Sway  over 
the  Indians — Their  Expulsion — Ruins  of  a 
Missionary  Establishment — Sublime  Scenery 
— IJpper  California — Missions — Their  Power 
and  Policy— Resources  of  the  Country — De- 
signs of  Foreign  Nations         .        .        .        •92 

Chap.  X. — Gay  Life  at  Monterey — Mexican  Horse- 
men— A  Bold  Dragoon — Use  of  the  Lasso — 
Vaqueros — Noosing  a  Bear — Fight  between  a 
Bull  and  a  Bear — Departure  from  Monterey — 
Indian  Horse-stealers — Outrages  Committed 
by  the  Travellers-:-Indignation  of  Captain 
Bonneville 107 

Chap.  XI. — Travellers'  Tales — Indian  Lurkers — 
Prognostics  of  Buckeye — Signs  and  Portents 
— The  Medicine  Wolf— An  Alarm — An  Am- 
bush— The  Captured  Provant — Triumph  of 
Buckeye  —  Arrival  of  Supplies  —  Grand  Ca- 


Vlll 


Contentd 


"'^-T 


liiM: 


PAOB 

rouse  —  Arrangements    for    the    Year  —  Mr. 
Wyeth  and  his  New-Levied  Band    .        .        .114 

Chap.  XII. — A  Voyage  in  a  Bull-Boat         .        .  122 

Chap.  XIII. — Departure  of  Captain  Bonneville 
for  the  Columbia — Advance  of  Wyeth — Ef- 
forts to  Keep  the  Lead — Hudson's  Bay  Party 
—  A  Junketing  —  A  Delectable  Beverage  — 
Honey  and  Alcohol — High  Carousing — The 
Canadian  Bon  Vivant — A  Cache — A  Rapid 
Move — Wyeth  and  his  Plans — His  Travelling 
Companions — Buffalo  Hunting — More  Con- 
viviality— An  Interruption      ....  149 

Chap.  XIV.— A  Rapid  March— A  Cloud  of  Dust 
— Wild  Horsemen  —  "  High  Jinks  "  —  Horse- 
Racing  and  Rifie-Shooting  —  The  Game  of 
"Hand"— The  Fishing  Season  — Mode  of 
Fishing — Table  Lands — Salmon  Fishers — ^The 
Captain's  Visit  to  an  Indian  Lodge — The  In- 
dian Girl  —  The  Pocket  Mirror  —  Supper — 
Troubles  of  an  Evil  Conscience       .        .        .  159 

Chap.  XV. — Outfit  of  a  Trapper — Risks  to  which 
he  is  Subjected — Partnership  of  Trappers — 
Enmity  of  Indians  —  Distant  Smoke  —  A 
Country  on  Fire — Gun  Creek — Grand  Rond 
— Fine  Pastures — Perplexities  in  a  Smoky 
Country — Conflagration  of  Forests         .        .  170 

Chap.  XVI.— The  Skynses— Their  Traffic—Hunt- 
ing— Food — Horses  —  A  Horse-Race  —  Devo- 
tional Feelings  of  the  Skynses,  Nez  Percys, 
and  Flatheads  —  Prayers  —  Exhortations  —  A 
Preacher  on  Horseback — Effect  of  Religion 
on  the  Manners  of  the  Tribes — A  New  Light  179 


Contetit0 


IX 


PAOB 


Chap.  XVII. — Scarcity  in  the  Camp — Refusal  of 
Supplies  by  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company — 
Conduct  of  the  Indians — A  Hungry  Retreat 
— John  Day's  River — The  Blue  Mountains — 
Salmon  Fishing  on  Snake  River— Messengers 
from  the  Crow  Country — Bear  River  Valley 
— Immense  Migration  of  Buffalo— Danger  of 
Buffalo  Hunting — A  Wounded  Indian — Kutaw 
Indians — A  "Surround"  of  Antelopes  .         .  187 

Chap.  XVIII.— A  Festive  Winter — Conversion  of 
the  Shoshonies— -Visit  of  Two  Free  Trappers— 
Gayety  in  the  Camp — A  Touch  of  the  Tender 
Passion — The  Reclaimed  Squaw — An  Indian  Fine 
Lady — An  Elopement— A  Pursuit — Market  Value 
of  a  Bad  Wife 199 

Chap.  XIX. — Breaking  up  of  Winter  Quarters- 
Move  to  Green  River — A  Trapper  and  his 
Rifle — An  Arrival  in  Camp— A  Free  Trapper 
and  his  Squaw  in  Distress— Story  of  a  Black- 
foot  Belle  .        .        .        .        .        i        .        .  207 

Chap.  XX. — A  Rendezvous  at  Wind  River— Cam- 
paign of  Montero  and  his  Brigade  in  the  Crow 
Country — Wars  between  the  Crows  and  Black- 
feet — Death  of  Arapooish — Blackfeet  Lurkers 
— Sagacity  of  the  Horse — Dependence  of  the 
Hunter  on  his  Horse — Return  to  the  Settle- 
ments         215 


APPENDIX. 

Mr.  Wyeth  and  the  Trade  of  the  Far  West    .        .  229 
Wreck  of  a  Japanese  Junk  on  the  Northwest  Coast  235 


X  Conteitt0 

rAoa 
Instructions  to  Captain  Bonneville  from  the  Ma* 
jor-General  Commanding  the  Army  of  the 
United  States    . 236 

MISCELLANIES 

Woi.i'ERT's  Roost 241 

The  Birds  op  Spring 272 

The  Creoi^e  Vii«i«age 282 

MouNTjOY 296 

REC0I4;ECTI0NS  OP  THE  AUIAMBRA      •  •  .  366 


I 


THE   ADVENTURES 

OF 

CAPTAIN  BONNEVILLE. 


Cbapter  f « 

State  of  the  Fur  Trade  of  the  Rocky  Mountains-^ 
American  Enterprises — General  Ashley  and  his  As> 
sociates — Sublette,  a  Famous  Leader — ^Yearly  Ren- 
dezvous among  the  Mountains — Stratagems  and 
Dangers  of  the  Trade — Bands  of  Trappers — ^Indian 
Banditti— -Crows  and  Blackfeet — Mountaineers — 
Traders  of  the  Far  West— Character  and  Habits  of 
the  Trapper. 

IN  a  recent  work  we  have  given  an  account 
of  the  grand  enterprise  of  Mr.  John  Jacob 
Astor,  to  establish  an  American  emporium 
for  the  fur  trade  at  the  mouth  of  the  Columbia, 
or  Oregon  River  ;  of  the  failure  of  that  enter- 
prise through  the  capture  of  Astoria  by  the 

VOL.1. 


11 


a  J}onncvflIc'0  Bdvcnturcd 

British,  in  1814 ;  and  of  the  way  in  which  the 
control  of  the  trade  of  the  Columbia  and  its 
dependencies  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  North- 
west Company.  We  have  stated,  likewise,  the 
unfortunate  supineness  of  the  American  gov- 
ernment, in  neglecting  the  application  of  Mr. 
/.  stor  for  the  protection  of  the  American  flag, 
and  a  small  military  force,  to  enable  him  to 
reinstate  himself  in  the  possession  of -Astoria 
at  the  return  of  peace  ;  when  the  post  was 
formally  given  up  by  the  British  government, 
though  still  occupied  by  the  Northwest  Com- 
pany. By  that  supineness  the  sovereignty  of 
the  country  has  been  virtually  lost  to  the  United 
States  ;  and  it  will  cost  both  governments  much 
trouble  and  difficulty  to  settle  matters  on  that 
just  and  rightful  footing,  on  which  the)'  would 
readily  have  been  placed,  had  the  proposition 
of  Mr.  Astor  been  attended  to.  We  shall  now 
state  a  few  particulars  of  subsequent  events,  so 
as  to  lead  the  reader  up  to  the  period  of  which 
we  are  about  xo  treat,  and  to  prepare  him  for 
the  circumstances  of  our  narrative. 

In  consequence  of  the  apathy  and  neglect 
of  the  American  government,  Mr.  Astor  aban- 
doned all  thoughts  of  regaining  Astoria,  and 
made  no  further  attempt  to  extend  his  enter- 
prises beyond  the  Rocky  Mountains ;  and  the 
Northwest    Company    considered    themselves 


fni  (Tra^e  ot  tbc  Itocliv  Aountains         3 

the  lords  of  the  country.  They  did  not  long 
enjoy  unmolested  the  sway  which  they  had 
somewhat  surreptitiously  attained.  A  fierce 
competition  ensued  between  them  and  their 
old  rivals,  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company  ;  which 
was  carried  on  at  great  cost  and  sacrifice,  and 
occasionally  with  the  loss  of  life.  It  ended  in 
the  ruin  of  most  of  the  partners  of  the  North- 
west Company  ;  and  the  merging  of  the  relics 
of  that  establishment,  in  1 821,  in  the  rival  as- 
sociation. From  that  time,  the  Hudson's  Bay 
Company  enjoyed  a  monopoly  of  the  Indian 
trade  from  the  coast  of  the  Pacific  to  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  and  for  a  considerable  ex- 
tent north  and  south.  They  removed  their 
emporium  from  Astoria  to  Fort  Vancouver,  a 
strong  post  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Columbia 
River,  about  sixty  miles  from  its  mouth ; 
whence  they  furnished  their  interior  posts, 
and  sent  forth  their  brigades  of  trappers. 

The  Rocky  Mountains  formed  a  vast  barrier 
between  them  and  the  United  States,  and  their 
stern  and  awful  defiles,  their  rugged  valleys, 
and  the  great  western  plains  watered  by  their 
rivers,  remained  almost  a  Urra  incognita  to  the 
American  trapper.  The  difficulties  experienced 
in  1808,  by  Mr.  Henry  of  the  Missouri  Com- 
pany, the  first  American  who  trapped  upon  the 
head-waters  of  the  Columbia  ;  and  the  fright- 


■•>i 


ill 


4  J3onnevfllc'0  Bdventures 

fill  hardships  sustained  bj'  Wilson  P.  Hunt, 
Ramsay  Crooks,  Robert  Stuart,  and  other  in- 
trepid Astorians,  in  their  ill-fated  expeditions 
across  the  mountains,  appeared  for  a  time  to 
check  all  further  enterprise  in  that  direction. 
The  American  traders  contented  themselves 
with  following  up  the  head  branches  of  the 
Missouri,  the  Yellowstone,  and  other  rivers 
and  streams  on  the  Atlantic  side  of  the  moun- 
tains, but  forebore  to  attempt  those  great  snow- 
crowned  sierras. 

One  of  the  first  to  reviv^e  these  tramontane 
expeditions  was  General  Ashley,  of  Missouri, 
a  man  whose  courage  and  achievements  in  the 
prosecution  of  his  enterprises,  have  rendered 
him  famous  in  the  Far  West.  In  conjunction 
with  Mr.  Henry,  already  mentioned,  he  estab- 
lished a  post  on  the  banks  of  the  Yellowstone 
River,  in  1822,  and  in  the  following  year 
pushed  a  resolute  band  of  trappers  across  the 
mountains  to  the  banks  of  the  Green  River  or 
Colorado  of  the  West,  often  known  by  ^he 
Indian  name  of  the  Seeds-ke-dee  Agie.*  This 
attempt  was  followed  up  and  sustained  by 
others,  until  in  1825  a  footing  was  secured,  and 
a  complete  system  of  trapping  organized  be- 
yond the  mountains. 

*/.  e.f  the  Prairie  Hen  River.    Agie  in  the  Crow 
language  signifies  river. 


pionecrd  o(  tbc  fur  CraDe 


It  is  difficult  lo  do  justice  to  the  courage, 
fortitude,  and  perseverance  of  the  pioneers  of 
the  fur  trade,  who  conducted  these  early  expe- 
ditions, and  first  broke  their  way  through  a 
wilderness  where  everything  was  calculated  to 
deter  and  dismay  them.  They  had  to  traverse 
the  most  dreary  and  desolate  mountains,  and 
barren  and  trackless  wastes,  uninhabited  by 
man,  or  occasionally  infested  by  predatory  and 
cruel  savages.  They  knew  nothing  of  the 
country  beyond  the  verge  of  their  horizon,  and 
had  to  gather  information  as  they  wandered. 
They  beheld  volcanic  plains  stretching  around 
them,  and  ranges  of  mountains  piled  up  to  the 
clouds,  and  glistening  with  eternal  frost ;  but 
knew  nothing  of  their  defiles,  nor  how  they 
were  to  be  penetrated  or  traversed.  They 
launched  themselves  in  frail  canoes  on  rivers, 
without  knowing  whither  their  swift  currents 
would  carry  them,  or  what  rocks,  and  shoals, 
and  rapids  they  might  encounter  in  their 
course.  They  had  to  be  continually  on  the 
alert,  too,  against  the  mountain  tribes,  who  be- 
set every  defile,  laid  ambuscades  in  their  path, 
or  attacked  them  in  their  night  encampments  ; 
so  that,  of  the  hardy  bands  of  trappers  that 
first  entered  into  these  regions,  three  fifths  are 
said  to  have  fallen  by  the  hands  of  savage  foes. 

In  this  wild  and  warlike  school  a  number  of 


Xonneville'e  Biwentures 


M 


leaders  have  sprung  up,  originally  in  the  em- 
ploy, subsequently  partners  of  Ashley  ;  among 
these  we  may  mention  Smith,  Fitzpatrick, 
Bridger,  Robert  Campbell,  and  William  Sub- 
lette ;  whose  adventures  and  exploits  partake 
of  the  wildest  spirit  of  romance.  The  associa- 
tion commenced  by  General  Ashley  underwent 
various  modifications.  That  gentleman  having 
acquired  sufficient  fortune,  sold  out  his  interest 
and  retired  ;  and  the  leading  spirit  that  suc- 
ceeded him  was  Captain  William  Sublette ;  a 
man  worthy  of  note,  as  his  name  has  become 
renowned  in  frontier  story.  He  is  a  native  of 
Kentucky,  and  of  game  descent  ;  his  maternal 
g  and  father,  Colonel  Wheatley,  a  companion 
of  Boon,  having  been  one  of  the  pioneers  of 
the  West,  celebrated  in  Indian  warfare,  and 
killed  in  one  of  the  contests  of  the  "  Bloody 
Ground."  We  shall  frequently  have  occasion 
to  speak  of  this  Sublette,  and  always  to  the 
credit  of  his  game  qualities.  In  1830,  the  asso- 
ciation took  the  name  of  the  Rocky  Mountain 
Fur  Company,  of  which  Captain  Sublette  and 
Robert  Campbell  were  prominent  members. 

In  the  meantime,  the  success  of  this  com- 
pany attracted  the  attention  and  excited  the 
emulation  of  the  American  Fur  Company,  and 
brought  them  once  more  into  the  field  of  their 
ancient  enterprise.     Mr.  Astor,  the  founder  of 


Dan^erd  of  tbc  Tirade  7 

the  association,  had  retired  from  busy  life,  and 
the  concerns  of  the  company  were  ably  man- 
aged by  Mr.  Ramsay  Crooks,  of  Snake  River 
renown,  who  still  officiated  as  its  president.  A 
competition  immediately  ensued  between  the 
two  companies,  for  the  trade  with  the  moun- 
tain tribes,  and  the  trapping  of  the  head- 
waters of  the  Columbia,  and  the  other  great 
tributaries  of  the  Pacific.  Beside  the  regular 
operations  of  these  formidable  rivals,  there  have 
been  from  time  to  time  desultory  enterprises, 
or  rather  experiments,  of  minor  associations, 
or  of  adventurous  individuals,  besides  roving 
bands  of  independent  trappers,  who  either 
hunt  for  themselves,  or  engage  for  a  single 
season,  in  the  service  of  one  or  other  of  the 
main  companies. 

The  consequence  is,  that  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains and  the  i  Iterior  regions,  from  the  Russian 
possessions  in  the  north,  down  to  the  Spanish 
settlements  of  California,  have  been  traversed 
and  ransacked  in  every  direction  by  bands  of 
hunters  and  Indian  traders  ;  so  that  there  is 
scarcely  a  mountain  pass,  or  defile,  that  is  not 
known  and  threaded  in  their  restless  migra- 
tions, nor  a  nameless  stream  that  is  not  haunted 
by  the  lonely  trapper. 

The  American  fur  companies  keep  no  estab- 
lished post  beyond  the  mountains.  Everything 


■i 


I 


8  JSonneville'0  B^t^enture^ 

there  is  regulated  by  resident  partners  ;  that  is 
to  say,  partners  who  reside  in  the  tramontane 
country,  but  who  move  about  from  place  to 
place,  either  with  Indian  tribes,  whose  traffic 
they  wish  to  monopolize,  or  with  main  bodies 
of  their  own  men,  whom  they  employ  in  trad- 
ing and  trapping.  In  the  meantime,  they  de- 
tach bands,  or  **  brigades  "  as  they  are  termed, 
of  trappers  in  various  directions,  assigning  to 
each  a  portion  of  country  as  a  hunting,  or 
trapping  ground.  In  the  months  of  June  or 
July,  when  there  is  an  interval  between  the 
hunting  seasons,  a  general  rendezvous  is  held, 
at  some  designated  place  in  the  mountains, 
where  the  affairs  of  the  past  year  are  settled  by 
the  resident  partners,  and  the  plans  for  the 
following  year  arranged. 

To  this  rendezvous  repair  the  various  brig- 
ades of  trappers  from  their  widely  separated 
hunting  grounds,  bringing  in  the  product  of 
their  year's  campaign.  Hither  also  repair  the 
Indian  tribes  accustomed  to  traffic  their  peltries 
with  the  company.  Bands  of  free  trappers 
resort  hither  also,  to  sell  the  furs  they  have 
collected;  or  to  engage  th?ir  services  for  the 
next  hunting  season. 

To  this  rendezvous  the  company  sends  annu- 
ally a  convoy  of  su^>  lies  from  its  establisment 
on  the  Atlantic  frontier,  under  the  guidanc.e  of 


some  experienced  partner  or  officer.  On  the 
arrival  of  this  conv^oy,  the  resident  partner  at 
the  rendezvous  depends,  to  set  all  his  next 
year's  machinery  in  motion. 

Now  as  the  rival  companies  keep  a  vigilant 
eye  upon  each  other,  and  are  anxious  to  dis- 
cover each  other's  plans  and  movements,  they 
generally  contrive  to  hold  their  annual  assem- 
blages at  no  great  distance  apart.  An  eager 
competition  exists  also  between  their  respec- 
tive convoys  of  supplies,  which  shall  first  reach 
its  place  of  rendezvous.  For  this  purpose,  they 
set  off  with  the  first  appearance  of  grass  on  the 
Atlantic  frontier,  and  push  with  all  diligence 
for  the  mountains.  The  company  that  can  first 
open  its  tempting  supplies  of  coffee,  tobacco, 
ammunition,  scarlet  cloth,  blankets,  bright 
shawls,  and  glittering  trinkets,  has  the  great- 
est chance  to  get  all  the  peltries  and  furs  of  the 
Indians  and  free  trappers,  and  to  engage  their 
services  for  the  next  season.  It  is  able,  also, 
to  fit  out  and  despatch  its  own  trappers  the 
soonest,  so  as  to  get  the  start  of  its  competitors, 
and  to  have  the  first  dash  into  the  hunting  and 
trapping  grounds. 

A  new  species  of  strategy  has  sprung  out  of 
this  hunting  and  trapping  competition.  The 
constant  study  of  the  rival  bands  is  to  forestall 
and  outwit  each  other  ;  to  supplant  each  other 


■'■?,---■■"  ,7 -itt-H 


10 


JSonnevillc'd  Bdventures 


M'  l;n|i 


iiijl 


in  the  good-will  and  custom  of  the  Indian  tribes  ; 
to  cross  each  other's  plans;  to  mislead  each 
other  as  to  routes  ;  in  a  word,  next  to  his  own 
advantage,  the  study  of  the  Indian  trader  is 
the  disadvantage  of  his  competitor. 

The  influx  of  this  wandering  trade  has  had 
its  effects  on  the  habits  of  the  mountain  tribes. 
They  have  found  the  trapping  of  the  beaver 
their  most  profitable  species  of  hunting ;  and 
the  traffic  with  the  white  man  has  opened  to 
them  sources  of  luxury  of  which  they  previously 
had  no  idea.  The  introduction  of  fire-arms 
has  rendered  them  more  successful  hunters, 
but  at  the  same  time  more  formidable  foes ; 
some  of  them,  incorrigibly  savage  and  warlike 
in  their  nature,  have  found  the  expeditions  of 
the  fur  traders  grand  objects  of  profitable  ad- 
venture. To  waylay  and  harass  a  band  of 
trappers  with  their  pack-horses,  when  embar- 
rassed in  the  rugged  defiles  of  the  mountains, 
has  become  as  favorite  an  exploit  with  these 
Indians  as  the  plunder  of  a  caravan  to  the  Arab 
of  the  desert.  The  Crows  and  Blackfeet,  who 
were  such  terrors  in  the  path  of  the  early  ad- 
venturers to  Astoria,  still  continue  their  preda- 
tory habits,  but  seem  to  have  brought  them  to 
greater  system.  Thej''  know  the  routes  and 
resorts  of  the  trappers  ;  where  to  waylay  them 
on  their  journeys ;  where  to  find  them  in  the 


^rbe  **  yiSountaineers  ** 


ti 


1  Hinting  seasons,  and  where  to  hover  about 
llieni  in  winter  quarters.  The  life  of  a  trapper, 
therefore,  is  a  perpetual  state  militant,  and  he 
must  sleep  wnth  his  weapons  in  his  hands. 

A  new  order  of  trappers  and  traders,  also, 
has  grown  out  of  this  system  of  things. 
In  the  old  times  of  the  great  Northwest  Com- 
pany, when  the  trade  in  furs  was  pursued 
chiefly  about  the  lakes  and  rivers,  the  expedi- 
tions were  carried  on  in  batteaux  and  canoes. 
The  voyageurs  or  boatmen  were  the  rank  and 
file  in  the  service  of  the  trader,  and  even  the 
hardy  **  men  of  the  north,"  those  great  rufflers 
and  game  birds,  were  fain  to  be  paddled  from 
point  to  point  of  their  migrations. 

A  totally  different  class  has  now  sprung  up  ; 
— the  "Mountaineers,"  the  traders  and  trap- 
pers that  scale  the  vast  mountain  chains,  and 
pursue  their  hazardous  vocations  amidst  their 
wild  recesses.  They  move  from  place  to  place 
on  horseback.  The  equestrian  exercises,  there- 
fore, in  which  they  are  engaged,  the  nature  of 
the  countries  they  traverse,  vavSt  plains  and 
mountains,  pure  and  exhilarating  in  atmos- 
pheric qualities,  seem  to  make  them  physically 
and  mentally  a  more  lively  and  mercurial  race 
than  the  fur  traders  and  trappers  of  former 
days,  the  self- vaunting  **  men  of  the  north." 
A  man  who  bestrides  a  horse,  must  be  essen- 


19 


Xonncvillc*B  Bdt^entured 


tially  different  from  a  man  who  cowers  in  a 
canoe.  We  find  them,  accordingly,  hardy, 
lithe,  vigorous,  and  active  ;  extravagant  in 
word,  in  thought,  and  deed  ;  heedless  of  hard- 
ship ;  daring  of  danger ;  prodigal  of  the  pres- 
ent, and  thoughtless  of  the  future. 

A  difference  is  to  be  perceived  even  between 
these  mountain  hunters  and  those  of  the  lower 
regions  along  the  waters  of  the  Missouri.  The 
latter,  generally  French  Creoles,  live  comfort- 
ably in  cabins  and  log-huts,  well  sheltered  from 
the  inclemencies  of  the  seasons.  They  are 
within  the  reach  of  frequent  supplies  from  the 
settlements ;  their  life  is  comparatively  free 
from  danger,  and  from  most  of  the  vicissitudes 
of  the  upper  wilderness.  The  consequence  is, 
that  they  are  less  hardy,  self-dependent,  and 
game-spirited  than  the  mountaineer.  If  the 
latter  by  chance  come  among  them  on  his  way 
to  and  from  the  settlements,  he  is  like  a  game- 
cock among  the  common  roosters  of  the  poultry- 
yard.  Accustomed  to  live  in  tents,  or  to  bivouac 
in  the  open  air,  he  despises  the  comforts  and  is 
impatient  of  the  confinement  of  the  log-house 
If  his  meal  is  not  ready  in  season,  he  takes  his 
rifle,  hies  to  the  forest  or  prairie,  shoots  his 
own  game,  lights  his  fire,  and  cooks  his  repast. 
With  .lis  horse  and  his  rifle,  he  is  independent 
of  the  world,  and  spurns  at  all  its  restraints. 


Cbaractcr  of  tbe  (Trapper 


13 


The  very  superintendents  at  the  lower  posts 
will  not  put  him  to  mess  with  thecommon  men, 
the  hirelings  of  the  establishment,  but  treat 
him  as  something  superior. 

There  is,  perhaps,  no  class  of  men  on  the  face 
of  the  earth,  says  Captain  Bonneville,  who  lead 
a  life  of  more  continued  exertion,  peril,  and 
excitement,  and  who  are  more  enamoured  of 
their  occupations,  than  the  free  trappers  of  the 
West.  No  toil,  no  danger,  no  privation  can 
turn  the  trapper  from  his  pursuit.  His  pas- 
sionate excitement  at  times  resembles  a  mania. 
In  vain  maj'  the  most  vigilant  and  cruel  savages 
beset  his  path  ;  in  vain  may  rocks,  and  preci- 
pices, and  wintry  torrents  oppose  his  progress  ; 
but  let  a  single  track  of  beaver  meet  his  eye, 
and  he  forgets  all  dangers  and  defies  all  diffi- 
culties. At  times  he  may  be  seen  with  his 
traps  on  his  shoulder,  buffeting  his  way  across 
rapid  streams,  amidst  floating  blocks  of  ice : 
at  other  times,  he  is  to  be  found  with  his  traps 
swung  on  his  back  clambering  the  most  rug- 
ged mountains,  scaling  or  descending  the  most 
frightful  predpices,  searching,  by  routes  inac- 
cessible to  the  horse,  and  never  before  trodden 
by  white  man,  for  springs  and  lakes  unknown 
to  his  comrades,  and  where  he  may  meet  with 
his  favorite  game.  Such  is  the  mountaineer, 
the  hardy  trapper  of  the  West ;  and  such,  as 


rm 


M 


XonncviUc*6  B^vcntnxcs 


IWlit 

■  I 
1, 
I- 


we  have  slightly  sketched  it,  is  the  wild,  Robin 
Hood  kind  of  life,  with  all  its  strange  and 
motley  populace,  now  existing  in  full  vigor 
among  the  Rocky  Mountains. 

Having  thus  given  the  reader  some  idea  of 
the  actual  state  of  the  fur  trade  in  the  interior 
of  our  vast  continent,  and  made  him  acquainted 
with  the  wild  chivalry  of  the  mountains,  we 
will  no  longer  delay  the  introduction  of  Captain 
Bonneville  and  his  band  into  this  field  of  their 
enterprise,  but  launch  them  at  once  upon  the 
perilous  plains  of  the  Far  West. 


I 


Cbaptet  f  1« 

Departure  from  Fort  Osag- — Modes  of  Transportation 
— Pack-horses — Wagons — Walker  and  Cerrd  ;  their 
Characters — Buoyant  Feelings  on  Launching  upon 
the  Prairies — Wild  Equipments  of  the  Trappers— 
Their  Gambols  and  Antics — Difference  of  Character 
Between  the  American  and  French  Trappers — 
Agency  of  the  Kansas — General  Clarke — Whit* 
Plume,  the  Kansas  Chief— Night  Scene  in  Trader's 
Camp — Colloquy  between  White  Plume  and  the 
Captain — Bee  Hunters — ^Their  Expeditions — ^Their 
Feuds  with  the  Indians — Bargaining  Talent  of 
White  Plume. 

IT  was  on  the  first  of  May,  1832,  that  Captain 
Bonneville  took  his  departure  from  the 
frontier  post  of  Fort  Osage,  on  the  Mis- 
souri. He  had  enlisted  a  party  of  one  hundred 
and  ten  men,  most  of  whom  had  been  in  the 
Indian  country,  and  some  of  whom  were  ex- 
perienced hunters  and  trappers.  Fort  Osage, 
and  other  places  on  the  borders  of  the  western 
wilderness,  abound  with  characters  of  the 
kind,. ready  for  any  expedition. 

«  1$ 


l6 


J8onnevUIe'0  Ti^vcntuxcs 


The  ordinary  mode  of  transportation  in  these 
great  inland  expeditions  of  the  fur  traders  is  on 
mules  and  pack-horses  ;  but  Captain  Bonneville 
substituted  wagons.  Though  he  was  to  travel 
through  a  trackless  wilderness,  yet  the  greater 
part  of  his  route  would  lie  across  open  plains, 
destitute  of  forests,  and  where  wheel  carriages 
can  pass  in  every  direction.  The  chief  difl&- 
culty  occurs  in  passing  the  deep  ravines  cut 
through  the  prairies  by  streams  and  winter 
torrents.  Here  it  is  often  necessary  to  dig  a 
road  down  the  banks,  and  to  make  bridges  for 
the  wagons. 

In  transporting  his  baggage  in  vehicles  of 
this  kind,  Captain  Bonneville  thought  he  would 
save  the  great  delay  caused  every  morning  by 
packing  the  horses,  and  the  labor  of  unpack- 
ing in  the  evening.  Fewer  horses  also  would 
be  required,  and  less  risk  incurred  of  their 
wandering  away,  or  being  frightened  or  carried 
off  by  the  Indians.  The  wagons,  also,  would 
be  more  easily  defended,  and  might  form  a 
kind  of  fortification  in  case  of  attack  in  the 
open  prairies.  A  train  of  twenty  wagons, 
drawn  by  oxen,  or  by  four  mules  or  horses 
each,  and  laden  with  merchandise,  an?munition, 
and  provisions,  were  disposed  in  two  columns 
in  the  centre  of  the  party,  which  was  equally- 
divided  into  a  van  and  a  rear-guard.    Ap  sub- 


Malltcr  an^  Cerr^ 


17 


leaders  or  lieutenants  in  his  expedition,  Cap- 
tain Bonneville  had  made  choice  of  Ar.  I.  R. 
Walker  and  Mr.  M.  S.  Cerrfe.  The  former  was 
a  native  of  Tennessee,  about  six  feet  high, 
strong  built,  dark  complexioned,  brave  in 
spirit,  though  mild  in  manners.  He  had  re- 
sided for  many  years  in  Missouri,  on  the  fron- 
tier ;  had  been  among  the  earliest  adventurers 
to  Santa  Fd,  where  he  went  to  trap  beaver, 
and  was  taken  by  the  Spaniards.  Being  liber- 
ated, he  engaged  with  the  Spaniards  and  Sioux 
Indians  in  a  war  against  the  Pawnees  ;  then 
returned  to  Missouri,  and  had  acted  by  turns 
as  sheriff",  trader,  trapper,  until  he  was  enlisted 
as  a  leader  by  Captain  Bonneville. 

Cerre,  his  other  leader,  had  likewise  been  in 
expeditions  to  Santa  F6,  in  which  he  had 
endured  much  hardship.  He  was  of  the  mid- 
dle size,  light  complexioned,  and  though  but 
about  twenty-five  years  of  age,  was  considered 
an  experienced  Indian  trader.  It  was  a  great 
object  with  Captain  Bonneville  to  get  to  the 
mountains  before  the  summer  heats  and  sum- 
mer flies  should  render  the  travelling  across 
the  prairies  distressing ;  and  before  the  annual 
assemblages  of  people  connected  v/ith  the  fur 
trade,  should  have  broken  up,  and  dispersed  to 
the  hunting  grounds. 

The  two  rival  associations  already  mentioned, 


VOL.  1.— a 


18 


3DoniicvilIc  d  B^venturc0 


the  American  Fur  Compcny  and  the  Rocky 
Mountain  Fur  Company,  had  their  several 
places  of  rendezvous  for  the  present  year  at  no 
great  distance  apart,  in  Pierre's  Hole,  a  deep 
valley  in  the  heart  of  the  mountains,  and 
thither  Captain  Bonneville  intended  to  shape 
his  course. 

It  is  not  easy  to  do  justice  to  the  exulting 
feelings  of  the  worthy  captain,  at  finding  him- 
self rX  the  head  of  a  stout  band  of  hunters, 
trapiiers,  and  woodmen  ;  fairly  launched  on 
the  broad  prairies,  with  his  face  to  the  bound- 
less West.  The  tamest  inhabitant  of  cities, 
the  veriest  spoiled  child  of  civilization,  feels 
his  heart  dilate  and  his  pulse  beat  high,  on 
finding  himself  en  horseback  in  the  glorious 
wilderness ;  what  then  must  be  the  excitement 
of  one  whose  imagination  had  been  stimulated 
by  a  residence  on  the  froutier,  and  to  whom 
the  wilderness  was  a  region  of  romance  ! 

His  hardy  followers  partook  of  his  excite- 
ment. Most  of  them  had  already  experienced 
the  wild  freedom  of  savage  life,  and  looked 
forward  to  a  renewal  of  past  scenes  of  adveti- 
ture  and  exploit.  Their  very  appearance  and 
equipment  exhibited  a  piebald  mixture,  half 
civilized  and  half  savage.  Many  of  them 
looked  more  like  Indians  than  white  men,  in 
their  garbs  and  accoutrements,  and  their  very 


Xauncbtn0  Out  on  tbc  prairkd 


19 


horses  were  caparisoned  in  barbaric  style,  with 
fantastic  trappings.  The  outset  of  a  band  of 
adventurers  in  one  of  these  expeditions  is  al- 
ways animated  and  joyous.  Tlie  welkin  rang 
with  their  shouts  and  yelps,  after  the  manner 
of  the  savages  ;  and  with  boisterous  jokes  and 
light-hearted  laughter.  As  they  passed  the 
straggling  hamlets  and  solitary  cabins  that 
fringe  the  skirts  of  the  frontier,  they  would 
startle  their  inmates  by  Indian  yells  and  war- 
whoops,  or  regale  them  with  grotesque  feats  of 
horsemanship,  well  suited  to  their  half-savage 
appearance.  Most  of  these  abodes  were  in- 
habited by  men  who  had  themseives  been  in 
similar  expeditions  ;  they  welcomed  the  trav- 
ellers, therefore,  as  brother  trappers,  treated 
them  with  a  hunter's  hospitality,  and  cheered 
them  with  an  honest  God  speed,  at  parting. 

And  here  we  would  remark  a  great  differ- 
ence, in  point  of  character  and  quality,  between 
the  two  classes  of  trappers,  the  "  American  ** 
and  "  French,"  as  they  are  called  in  contradis- 
tinction. The  latter  is  meant  to  designate  the 
French  Creole  of  Canada  or  Louisiana ;  the 
former,  the  trapper  of  the  old  American  stock, 
from  Kentucky,  Tennessee,  and  others  of  the 
Western  States.  The  French  trapper  is  repre- 
sented as  a  lighter,  softer,  more  self-indulgent 
kind  of  man.     He  must  have  his  Indian  wife, 


2<) 


JSonneviUc'0  Bdvcnturcd 


1  ir  M 


his  lodge,  and  his  petty  conveniences.  He  is 
gay  and  thoughtless,  takes  little  heed  of  land- 
marks, depends  upon  his  leaders  and  compan- 
ions to  think  for  the  common  weal,  and,  if  left 
to  himself,  is  ei  sily  perplexed  and  lost. 

The  American  trapper  stands  by  himself,  and 
is  peerless  for  the  service  of  the  wilderness. 
Drop  him  in  the  midst  of  a  prairie,  or  in  the 
heart  of  the  mountains,  and  he  is  never  at  a 
loss.  He  notices  every  landmark  ;  can  retrace 
his  route  through  the  most  monotonous  plains, 
or  the  most  perplexed  labyrinths  of  the  moun- 
tains ;  no  danger  nor  difficulty  can  appall  him, 
and  he  scorns  to  complain  under  any  privation. 
In  equipping  the  two  kinds  of  trappers,  the 
Creole  and  Canadian  are  apt  to  prefer  the  light 
fusee ;  the  American  always  grasps  his  rifle  ; 
he  despises  what  he  calls  the  **  shot-gun."  We 
give  these  estimates  on  the  authority  of  a  trader 
of  long  experience,  and  a  foreigner  by  birth. 
**  I  consider  one  American,"  said  he,  "equal 
to  three  Canadians  in  point  of  sagacity,  apt- 
ness at  resources,  vself-dependence,  and  fearless- 
ness of  spirit.  In  fact,  no  one  can  cope  with 
him  as  a  stark  tramper  of  the  wilderness. ' ' 

Beside  the  two  classes  of  trappers  just  men- 
tioned. Captain  Bonneville  had  enlisted  several 
Delaware  Indians  in  his  employ,  on  whose 
hunting  qualifications  he  placed  great  reliance. 


tion 

done 

even 

of 

supe 

theci 

with 

wate 

patri 

prete 

excel 


r'l 


Bdenci?  of  tbc  fcatiead  ;rrtbc 


31 


On  the  6th  of  May  the  travellers  passed  the 
last  border  habitation,  and  bade  a  long  farewell 
to  the  ease  and  security  of  civilization.  The 
buoyant  and  clamorous  spirits  with  which  they 
had  commenced  their  march,  gradually  sub- 
sided as  they  entered  upon  its  difficulties.  They 
found  the  prairies  saturated  with  the  heavy 
cold  rains,  prevalent  in  certain  seasons  of  the 
year  in  this  part  of  the  country,  the  wagon 
wheels  sank  deep  in  the  mire,  the  horses  were 
often  to  the  fetlock,  and  both  steed  and  rider 
were  completely  jaded  by  the  evening  of  the 
1 2th,  when  they  reached  the  Kansas  River  ;  a 
fine  stream  about  three  hundred  yards  wide, 
entering  the  Missouri  from  the  south.  Though 
fordable  in  almost  every  part  at  the  end  of 
summer  and  during  the  autumn,  yet  it  was 
necessary  to  construct  a  raft  for  the  transporta- 
tion of  the  wagons  and  effects.  All  this  was 
done  in  the  course  of  the  fUlowing  day,  and  by 
evening,  the  whole  party  arrived  at  the  agency 
of  the  Kansas  tribe.  This  was  under  the 
superintendence  of  General  Clarke,  brother  of 
the  celebrated  traveller  of  the  same  name,  who, 
with  Lewis,  made  the  first  expedition  down  the 
waters  of  the  Columbia.  He  was  living  like  a 
patriarch,  surrounded  by  laborers  and  inter- 
preters, all  snugly  housed,  and  provided  with 
excellent  farms.    The  functionary  next  in  con- 


UNIVERSITY  OF  MANITOBA 
JUNIOR  LIBRARY 


iH^fcW 


•'•^rf*"^^ 


aa 


XonncvU[c*e  BDventured 


sequence  to  the  agent  was  the  blacksmith,  a 
most  important,  and,  indeed,  indispensable  per- 
sonage in  a  frontier  community.  The  Kansas 
resemble  the  Osages  in  features,  dress,  and 
language  ;  they  raise  corn  and  hunt  the  buf- 
falo, ranging  the  Kansas  River,  and  its  tribu- 
tary streams;  at  the  time  of  the  captain's 
visit,  they  were  at  war  with  the  Pawnees  of 
the  Nebraska,  or  Platte  River. 

The  mi  usual  sight  of  a  train  of  wagons, 
caused  quite  a  sensation  among  these  savages  ; 
who  thronged  about  the  caravan,  examining 
every  thing  minutely,  and  asking  a  thousand 
questions  ;  exhibiting  a  degree  of  excitability, 
and  a  lively  curiosity,  totally  opposite  to  that 
apathy  with  which  their  race  is  so  often  re- 
proached. 

The  personage  who  most  attracted  the  cap- 
tain's attention  at  this  place,  was  "White 
Plume,"  the  Kansas  chief,  and  they  soon  be- 
came good  friends.  White  Plume  (we  are 
pleased  with  his  chivalrous  soubriquet)  inhabi- 
ted a  large  stone  house,  built  for  him  by  order 
of  the  American  government ;  but  the  estab- 
lishment had  not  been  carried  out  in  corre- 
sponding style.  It  might  be  palace  without, 
but  it  was  wigwam  within  :  so  that,  between 
the  stateliness  of  his  mansion,  and  the  squalid- 
ness  of  his  furniture,  the  gallant  White  Plume 


ASetbod  of  JEncampfno 


23 


presented  some  such  whimsical  incongruity  as 
we  see  in  the  gala  equipments  of  ^  an  Indian 
chief,  on  a  treaty-making  embassy  at  Washing- 
ton, who  has  been  generously  decked  out  in 
cocked  hat  and  military  coat,  in  contrast  to,  his 
breech-clout  and  leathern  leggings ;  being 
grand  officer  at  top,  and  ragged  Indian  at 
bottom. 

White  Plume  was  so  taken  with  the  courtesy 
of  the  captain,  and  pleased  with  one  or  two 
presents  received  from  him,  that  he  accompa- 
nied him  a  day's  journey  on  his  march,  and 
passed  a  night  in  his  camp,  on  the  margin  of 
a  small  stream.  The  method  of  encamping 
generally  observed  by  the  captain,  was  as  fol- 
lows :  The  twenty  wagons  were  disposed  in  a 
square,  at  the  distance  of  thirty-three  feet  from 
each  other.  In  every  interval  there  was  a  mess 
stationed  ;  and  each  mess  had  its  fire,  where 
the  men  cooked,  ate,  gossiped,  and  slept.  The 
horses  were  placed  in  the  centre  of  the  square, 
with  a  guard  stationed  over  them  at  night. 

The  horses  were  *'  side-lined,"  as  it  is  termed: 
that  is  to  say,  the  fore  and  hind  foot  on  the  same 
side  of  the  animal  were  tied  together,  so  as  to 
be  within  eighteen  inches  of  each  other.  A 
horse  thus  fettered  is  for  a  time  sadly  embar- 
rassed, but  soon  becomes  sufficiently  accus- 
tomed to  the  restraint  to  move  about  slowly. 


24 


JSpnneviUe'd  Bdventuree 


:''*ii 
* 


ni!i 


It  prevents  his  wandering  ;  and  his  being  easily 
carried  off  at  night  by  lurking  Indians.  When 
a  horse  that  is  "  foot  free,"  is  tied  to  one  thus 
secured,  the  latter  forms,  as  it  were,  a  pivot, 
round  which  the  other  runs  and  curvets,  in  case 
of  alarm. 

The  encampment  of  which  we  are  speaking, 
presented  a  striking  scene.  The  various  mess- 
fires  were  surrounded  by  picturesque  groups, 
standing,  sitting,  and  reclining ;  some  busied 
in  cooking,  others  in  cleaning  their  weapons  : 
while  the  frequent  laugh  told  that  the  rough 
joke,  or  merry  story  was  going  on.  In  the 
middle  of  the  camp,  before  the  principal  lodge, 
sat  the  two  chieftains.  Captain  Bonneville  and 
White  Plume,  in  soldier-like  communion,  the 
captain  delighted  with  the  opportunity  of  meet- 
ing, on  social  terms,  with  one  of  the  red  war- 
riors of  the  wilderness,  the  unsophisticated 
children  of  nature.  The  latter  was  squatted 
on  his  buffalo  robe,  his  strong  features  and  red 
skin  glaring  in  the  broad  light  of  a  blazing 
fire,  while  he  recounted  astounding  tales  of  the 
bloody  exploits  of  his  tribe  and  himself,  in 
their  wars  with  the  Pawnees  ;  for  there  are  no 
soldiers  more  given  to  long  campaigning  stories 
than  Indian  "braves." 

The  feuds  of  White  Plume,  however,  had 
not  been  confined  to  the  red  men  :    he  had 


Xce  1)untcr 


25 


much  to  say  of  brushes  with  bee  hunters,  a 
class  of  offl-iiders  for  whom  he  seemed  to  cher- 
ish a  particular  abhorrence.  As  the  species  of 
hunting  prosecuted  by  these  worthies  is  not 
laid  down  in  any  of  the  ancient  books  of  ven- 
erie,  and  is,  in  fact,  peculiar  to  our  western 
frontier,  a  word  or  two  on  the  subject  may  not 
be  unacceptable  to  the  reader. 

The  bee  hunter  is  generally  some  settler  on 
the  \  erge  of  the  prairie  ;  a  long,  lank  fellow, 
of  fever  and  ague  complexion,  acquired  from 
living  on  new  soil,  and  in  a  hut  built  of  green 
logs.  In  the  a;  '*"i"*n,  when  the  harvest  is  over, 
these  frontier  sc=  iirs  form  parties  of  two  or 
three,  and  prepare  for  a  bee  hunt.  Having 
provided  themselves  with  a  wagon,  and  a  num- 
ber of  empty  casks,  they  sally  off,  armed  with 
their  rifles,  into  the  wilderness,  directing  their 
course  east,  west,  north,  or  south,  without  any 
regard  to  the  ordinance  of  the  American  gov- 
ernment, which  strictly  forbids  all  trespass  upon 
the  lands  belonging  to  the  Indian  tribes. 

The  belts  of  woodland  that  traverse  the  lower 
prairies,  and  border  the  rivers,  are  peopled  by 
innumerable  swarms  of  wild  bees,  which  make 
their  hives  in  hollow  trees,  and  fill  them  with 
honey  tolled  from  the  rich  flowers  of  the  prai- 
ries. The  bees,  according  to  popular  assertion, 
are  migrating,  like  the  settlers,  to  the  west. 


26 


Xonncvillc'B  lEibvcwtnvee 


An  Indian  trader,  well  experienced  in  the 
country,  informs  us  that  within  ten  years  that 
he  has  passed  iu  the  Far  West,  the  bee  has 
advanced  west  wan  above  a  hundred  miles.  It 
is  said  on  the  Missouri,  that  the  wild  turkey 
and  the  wild  bee  go  up  the  river  together : 
neither  are  found  in  the  upper  regions.  It  is 
but  recently  that  the  wild  turkey  has  been 
killed  on  the  Nebraska,  or  Platte  ;  and  his 
travelling  competitor,  the  wild  bee,  appeared 
there  about  the  same  time. 

Be  all  this  as  it  may  :  the  course  of  our  party 
of  bee  hunters,  is  to  make  a  wide  circuit  through 
the  woody  river  bottoms,  and  the  patches  of 
forest  on  the  prairies,  marking,  as  they  go  out, 
every  tree  in  which  they  have  detected  a  hive. 
These  marks  are  generally  respected  by  any 
other  bee  hunter  that  should  come  upon  their 
traok.  When  they  have  marked  sufificient  to 
fill  all  their  casks,  they  turn  their  faces  home- 
ward, cut  down  the  trees  as  they  proceed,  and 
having  loade;d  their  wagon  with  honey  and 
wax,  return  well  pleased  to  the  settlements. 

•  Now  it  so  happens  that  the  Indians  relish 
wild  honey  as  highly  as  do  the  white  men,  and 
are  the  more  delighted  with  this  natural  lux- 
ury from  its  having,  in  many  i  distances,  but 
recently  made  its  appearance  in  their  lands. 
The  consequence  is,  numberless  disputes  and 


trading  Halent  of  Mbftc  plume 


37 


conflicts  between  them  and  the  bee  hunters  : 
and  often  a  party  of  the  latter,  returning,  laden 
with  rich  spoil,  from  one  of  their  foraj's,  are 
apt  to  be  waylaid  by  the  native  lords  of  the 
soil ;  their  honey  to  be  seized,  their  harness  cut 
to  pieces,  and  themselves  left  to  find  their  way 
home  the  best  way  they  can,  happy  to  escape 
with  no  greater  personal  harm  than  a  sound 
rib- roasting. 

Such  were  the  marauders  of  whose  offenses 
the  gallant  White  Plume  made  the  most  bitter 
complaint.  They  were  chiefly  the  settlers  of 
the  western  part  of  Missouri,  who  are  the  most 
famous  bee  hunters  on  the  frontier,  and  who.se 
favorite  hunting  ground  lies  within  the  lands 
of  the  Kansas  tribe.  According  to  the  account 
of  White  Plume,  however,  matters  were  pretty 
fairly  balanced  between  him  and  the  offenders ; 
he  hf  \ring  as  often  tviated  them  to  a  taste  of  the 
bitter,  as  they  had  robbed  him  of  the  sweets 

It  is  but  justice  to  this  gallant  chief  to  say, 
that  he  gave  proofs  of  having  acquired  some 
of  the  lights  of  civilization  from  his  proximity 
to  the  whites,  as  was  evinced  in  his  knowledge 
of  driving  a  bargain.  He  required  hard  cash 
in  return  for  some  corn  with  which  he  supplied 
the  worthy  captain,  and  left  the  latter  at  a  loss 
which  most  to  admire,  his  native  chivalry  as  a 
brave,  or  his  acquired  adroitness  as  a  trader. 


Il   . 


Cbaptet  f  f  f  • 


fl. 


ii:i 


Wide  Prairies — Vegetable  Productions — Tabular  Hills 
— Slabs  of  Sandstone — Nebraska  or  Platte  River^ 
Scanty  Fare — Bufifalo  SVulls — Wagons  Turned  into 
Boats — ^Herds  of  Buffalo — Clitk  Resembling  Castles 
—The  Chimney— Scott's  Bluffs— Story  Connected 
with  them — ^The  Bighorn  or  Ahsahta — ^Its  Nature  and 
Habits — ^Difference  between  that  and  the  "Woolly 
Sheepi"  or  Goat  of  the  Mountains. 

FROM  the  middle  to  the  end  of  May,  Cap- 
tain Bonneville  pursued  a  western  course 
over  vast,  undulating  plains,  destitute 
of  tree  or  shrub,  rendered  miry  by  occasional 
rain,  and  cut  up  by  deep  water-courses,  where 
they  had  to  dig  roads  for  their  wagons  down 
the  soft  crumbling  banks,  and  to  throw  bridgesi 
across  the  streams.  The  weather  had  attained 
the  summer  heat ;  the  thermometer  standing 
about  fifty-seven  degrees  in  the  morning,  early, 
but  rising  to  about  ninety  degrees  at  noon.  The 
incessant  breezes,  however,  which  sweep  these 
vast  plains,  render  the  heats  endurable.   Game 

*    a? 


(Tabular  f)ill0 


-9 


was  scanty,  and  they  had  to  eke  out  their 
scanty  fare  with  wild  roots  and  vegetables, 
such  as  the  Indian  potato,  the  wild  onion,  and 
the  prairie  tomato,  and  they  met  with  quan- 
tities of  "red  root,"  from  which  the  hunters 
make  a  vu-y  palatable  beverage.  The  only 
human  being  that  crossed  their  path  was  a 
Kansas  warrior,  returning  from  some  solitary 
expedition  of  bravado  or  revenge,  bearing  a 
Pawnee  scalp  as  a  trophy. 

The  country  gradually  rose  as  they  proceeded 
westward,  and  their  route  took  them  overhis^h 
ridges,  commanding  wide  and  beautiful  pi  '- 
pects.  The  vast  plain  was  studded  on  the  west 
with  innumerable  hills  of  conical  shape,  such 
as  are  seen  north  of  the  Arkansas  River.  These 
hills  have  their  summits  apparently  cut  oflf 
about  the  same  elevation,  so  as  to  leave  flat 
surfaces  at  top.  It  is  conjectured  by  some, 
that  the  whole  country  may  originally  have 
been  of  the  altitude  of  these  tabular  hills  ;  but 
through  some  process  of  nature  may  have  sunk 
to  its  present  level ;  these  insulated  eminences 
being  protected  by  broad  foundations  of  solid 
rock. 

Captain  Bonneville  mentions  another  geo- 
logical phenomenon  north  of  Red  River,  where 
the  surface  of  the  earth,  in  considerable  tracts 
ot  country,  is  covered  with  broad  slabs  of  sand- 


30 


3BoitneviUe'0  BDvcnturcd 


stone,  haying  the  form  and  position  of  grave- 
stones, and  looking  as  if  they  had  been  forced 
up  by  some  subterranean  agitation.  "The 
resemblance,"  says  he,  "which  these  very 
remarkable  spots  have  in  many  places  to  old 
church-yards  is  curious  in  the  extreme.  One 
might  almost  fancy  himself  among  the  tombs 
of  the  pre- Adamites." 

On  the  2d  of  June,  they  arrived  on  the  main 
stream  of  the  Nebraska  or  Platte  River ;  twenty- 
five  miles  below  the  head  of  the  Great  Island. 
The  low  banks  of  this  river  give  it  an  appear- 
ance of  great  width.  Captain  Bonneville  meas- 
ured it  in  one  place,  and  found  it  twenty-two 
hundred  yards  from  bank  to  bank.  Its  depth 
was  from  three  to  six  feet,  the  bottom  full  of 
quicksands.  The  Nebraska  is  studded  with 
islands  covered  with  that  species  of  poplar 
called  the  cotton-wood  tree.  Keeping  up  along 
the  course  of  this  river  for  several  days,  they 
were  obliged,  from  the  scarcity  of  game,  to  put 
themselves  upon  short  allowance,  and,  occa- 
sionally, to  kill  a  steer.  They  bore  their  daily 
labors  and  privations,  however,  with  great  good 
humor,  taking  their  tone,  in  all  probability, 
from  the  buoyant  spirit  of  their  leader.  **  If 
the  weather  was  inclement,"  says  the  captain, 
'*  we  watched  the  clouds,  and  hoped  for  a  sight 
of  the  blue  sky  and  the  merry  sun.     If  food 


#orlt  of  fiebrasfia  "River 


SI 


was  scanty,  we  regaled  ourselves  with  the  hope 
of  soon  falling  in  with  herds  of  buffalo,  and 
having  nothing  to  do  but  slay  and  eat."  We 
doubt  whether  the  genial  captain  is  not  describ- 
ing the  cheeriness  of  his  own  breast,  which  gave 
a  cheery  aspect  to  everything  around  him. 

There  certainly  were  evidences,  however, 
that  the  country  was  not  always  equally  desti- 
tute of  game.  At  one  place,  they  observed  a 
field  decorated  with  buffalo  skulls,  arranged  in 
circles,  curves,  and  other  mathematical  figures, 
as  if  for  some  mystic  rite  or  ceremony.  They 
were  almost  innumerable,  and  seemed  to  have 
been  a  vast  hecatomb  offered  up  in  thanksgiv- 
ing to  the  Great  Spirit  for  some  signal  success 
in  the  chase. 

On  the  nth  of  June,  they  came  to  the  fork 
of  the  Nebraska,  where  it  divides  itself  into 
two  equal  and  beautiful  streams.  One  of  these 
branches  rises  in  the  west-southwest,  near  the 
head-waters  of  the  Arkansas.  Up  the  course 
of  this  branch,  as  Captain  Bonneville  was  well 
aware,  lay  the  route  to  the  Camanche  and  Kio- 
way  Indians,  and  to  the  northern  Mexican  set- 
tlements ;  of  the  other  branch  he  knew  nothing. 
Its  sources  might  lie  among  wild  and  inaccessi- 
ble cliffs,  and  tumble  and  foam  down  rugged 
defiles  and  over  craggy  precipices;  but  its 
direction  was  in  the  true  course,  and  up  this 


33 


J8oitncviUe*d  BDvcnturee 


stream  he  determined  to  prosecute  his  route 
to  the  Rocky  Mountains.  Finding  it  impos- 
sible, from  quicksands  and  other  dangerous 
impediments,  to  cross  the  river  in  this  neigh- 
bo»-hood,  he  kept  up  along  the  south  fork  for 
two  days,  merely  seeking  a  safe  fording  place. 
At  length  he  encamped,  caused  the  bodies  of 
the  wagons  to  be  dislodged  from  the  wheels, 
covered  with  buffalo  hides,  and  besmeared  with 
a  compound  of  tallow  and  ashes,  thus  forming 
rude  boats.  In  these,  they  ferried  their  effects 
across  the  stream,  which  was  six  hundred 
yards  wide,  with  a  swift  and  strong  current. 
Three  men  were  in  each  boat,  to  manage  it ; 
others  waded  across,  pushing  the  barks  before 
them.  Thus  all  crossed  in  safety.  A  march 
of  nine  miles  took  them  over  high  rolling  prai- 
ries to  the  north  fork  ;  their  eyes  being  regaled 
with  the  welcome  sight  of  herds  of  buffalo  at  a 
distance,  some  careering  the  plain,  others  graz- 
ing and  reposing  in  the  natural  meadows. 

Skirting  along  the  north  fork  for  a  day  or 
two,  excessively  annoyed  by  musquitoes  and 
buffalo  gnats,  they  reached,  on  the  evening  of 
the  17th,  a  small  but  beautiful  grove,  from 
which  issued  the  confused  notes  of  singing 
birds,  the  first  they  had  heard  since  crossing  the 
boundary  of  Missouri.  After  so  many  days  of 
weary  travelling,  through  a  naked,   monoto- 


JDufTalo  'Randc 


33 


nous,  and  silent  countrj-,  it  was  delightful  once 
'iiore  to  hear  the  song  of  the  bird,  and  to  be- 
!iold  the  verdure  of  the  grove.  It  was  a  beau- 
tiful sunset,  and  a  sight  of  the  glowing  rays, 
mantling  the  tree-tops  and  rustling  branches, 
gladdened  every  heart.  They  pitched  theii 
camp  in  the  grove,  kindled  their  fires,  partook 
merrily  of  their  rude  fare,  resigned  themselves 
to  the  sweetest  sleep  they  had  enjoyed  since 
their  outset  upon  the  prairies. 

The  country  now  became  rugged  and  broken. 
High  bluffs  advanced  upon  the  river,  and 
forced  the  travellers  occasionally  to  leave  its 
banks  and  wind  their  course  into  the  interior. 
In  one  of  the  wild  and  solitary  passes,  they 
were  startled  by  the  trail  of  four  or  five  pedes- 
trians, whom  they  supposed  to  be  spies  from 
some  predatory  camp  of  either  Arickara  or 
Crow  Indians.  This  obliged  them  to  redouble 
their  vigilance  at  night,  and  to  keep  especial 
watch  upon  their  horses.  In  these  rugged  and 
elevated  regions  they  began  to  see  the  black- 
tailed  deer,  a  species  larger  than  the  ordinary 
kind,  and  chiefly  found  in  rocky  and  moun- 
tainous countries.  They  had  reached  also  a 
great  buffalo  range  ;  Captain  Bonneville  as- 
cended a  high  bluff,  commanding  an  extensive 
view  of  the  surrounding  plains.  As  far  as  his 
eye  could  reach,  the  country  seemed  absolutely 

VOL.  I.— 3 


54 


jjonucvUlc'0  Bdventure0 


blackened  by  innumerable  herds.  No  lan- 
guage, he  says,  could  convey  an  adequate  idea 
of  the  vast  living  mass  thus  presented  to  his 
eye.  He  remarked  that  the  bulls  and  cows 
generally  congregated  in  separate  herds. 

Opposite  to  the  camp  at  this  place  was  a  sin- 
gular phenomenon,  which  is  among  the  curi- 
osities of  the  country.  It  is  called  the  Chimney. 
The  lower  part  is  a  conical  mound,  rising  out 
of  the  naked  plain  ;  from  the  summit  shoots  up 
a  shaft  or  column,  about  one  hundred  and 
twenty  feet  in  height,  from  which  it  derives  its 
name.  The  height  of  the  whole,  according  to 
Captain  Bonneville,  is  a  hundred  and  seventy- 
five  yards.  It  is  composed  of  indurated  clay, 
with  alternate  layers  of  red  and  white  sand- 
stone, and  may  be  seen  at  the  distance  of 
upwards  of  thirty  miles. 

On  the  2ist,  they  encamped  amidst  high  and 
beetling  cliffs  of  indurated  clay  and  sandstone, 
bearing  the  semblance  of  towers,  castles, 
churches,  and  fortified  cities.  At  a  distance, 
it  was  scarcel)^  possible  to  persuade  one's  self 
that  the  works  of  art  were  not  mingled  with 
these  "fantastic  freaks  of  nature.  They  have 
received  the  name  of  Scott's  Bluffs,  from  a 
melancholy  circumstance.  A  number  of  years 
since,  a  party  were  descending  the  upper  part  of 
the  river  in  canoes,  when  their  frail  barks  were 


ove: 

rifle 

able 

pen< 

Afte 

arri\ 

thei 

mile: 

one  < 

take] 

until 

suffic 

ing  r 

cover 

evide: 

was  tl 

migh 

reach 

hngei 

cxhai 

of  m< 

forwa 

prevei 

party.! 

don 

tense 

mighl 

sertedl 

trail. 


Scotid  J9lutr^ 


V 


of 


overturned  and  all  their  powder  spoiled.  Their 
rifles  being  thus  rendered  useless,  they  were  un- 
able to  procure  food  by  hunting,  and  had  to  de- 
pend upon  roots  and  wild  fruits  for  subsistence. 
After  suffering  extremely  from  hunger,  they 
arrived  at  Laramie's  Fork,  a  small  tributary  of 
the  north  branch  of  the  Nebraska,  about  sixty 
miles  above  the  cliffs  just  mentioned.  Here 
one  of  the  party,  by  the  name  of  Scott,  was 
taken  ill ;  and  his  companions  came  to  a  halt, 
until  he  should  recover  health  and  strength 
suffic\ei  t  to  proceed.  While  they  were  search- 
ing round  in  quest  of  edible  roots,  they  dis- 
covered a  fresh  trail  of  white  men,  who  had 
evidently  but  recently  preceded  them.  What 
was  to  be  done?  By  a  forced  march  they 
might  overtake  this  party,  and  thus  be  able  to 
reach  the  settlements  in  safety.  Should  they 
linger,  they  might  all  perish  of  famine  and 
exhaustion.  Scott,  however,  was  incapable 
of  moving ;  they  were  too  feeble  to  aid  him 
forward,  and  dreaded  that  such  a  clog  would 
prevent  their  coming  up  with  the  advance 
party.  They  determined,  therefore,  to  aban- 
don him  to  his  fate.  Accordingly,  under  pre- 
tense of  seeking  food,  and  such  simples  as 
might  be  efficacious  in  his  malady,  they  de- 
serted him  and  hastened  forward  upon  the 
trail.     They  succeeded  in  overtaking  the  party 


36 


JSonncvillc'a  Bdrcnturee 


of  which  they  were  in  quest,  but  concealed 
their  faithless  desertion  of  Scott ;  alleging  that 
he  had  died  of  disease. 

On  the  ensuing  summer,  these  very  individ- 
uals visiting  these  parts  in  company  with 
others,  came  suddenly  upon  the  bleached  bones 
and  grinning  skull  of  a  human  skeleton,  which, 
by  certain  signs,  they  recognized  for  the  re- 
mains of  Scott.  This  was  sixty  long  miles 
from  the  place  where  they  had  abandoned 
him  ;  and  it  appeared  that  the  wretched  man 
had  crawled  that  immense  distance  before 
death  put  an  end  to  his  miseries.  The  wild 
and  picturesque  bluffs  in  the  neighborhood  of 
his  lonely  grave  have  ever  since  bore  his 
name. 

Amidst  this  wild  and  striking  scenery,  Cap- 
tain Bonneville,  for  the  first  time,  beheld  flocks 
of  the  ahsahta  or  bighorn,  an  animal  which 
frequents  these  cliffs  in  great  numbers.  They 
accord  with  the  nature  of  such  scenery,  and 
add  much  to  its  romantic  effect ;  bounding  like 
goats  from  crag  to  crag,  often  trooping  along 
the  lofty  shelves  of  the  mountains,  under  the 
guidance  of  some  venerable  patriarch,  with 
horns  twisted  lower  than  his  muzzle,  and  some- 
times peering  over  the  edge  of  a  precipice,  so 
high  that  they  appear  scarce  bigger  than  crows  ; 
indeed,  it  seems  a  pleasure  to  them  to  seek  the 


most 
from 
Th 
tain 
other 
to  th 
Flath 
in  su 
the  M\ 
mingl 
it  has 
a  goat 
slight] 
beauti 
color, 
as  the 
sits  a  j 
so  pl< 
three 
a  resei 
of  the 
musty 
might 
that  oi 
be  pro( 
The 
trary, 
It  m  i 
sheep, 


\i  t['-tk 


Aountain  Sbeep 


37 


most  rugged  and  frightful  situations,  doubtless 
from  a  feeling  of  security. 

This  animal  is  commonly  called  the  moun- 
tain sheep,  and  is  often  confounded  with  an- 
other animal,  the  "woolly  sheep,"  found  more 
to  the  northward,  about  the  country  of  the 
Flatheads.  The  latter  likewise  inhabits  cliffs 
in  summer,  but  descends  into  the  valleys  in 
the  winter.  It  has  white  wool,  like  a  sheep, 
mingled  with  a  thin  growth  of  long  hair ;  but 
it  has  short  legs,  a  deep  belly,  and  a  beard  like 
a  goat.  Its  horns  are  about  five  inches  long, 
slightly  curved  backwards,  black  as  jet,  and 
beautifully  polished.  Its  hoofs  are  of  the  same 
color.  This  animal  is  by  no  means  so  active 
as  the  bighorn  ;  it  does  not  bound  much,  but 
sits  a  good  vdeal  upon  its  haunches.  It  is  not 
so  plentiful  either ;  rarely  more  than  two  or 
three  are  seen  at  a  time.  Its  wool  alone  gives 
a  resemblance  to  the  sheep  ;  it  is  more  properly 
of  the  goat  genus.  The  flesh  is  said  to  have  a 
musty  flavor ;  some  have  thought  the  fleece 
might  be  valuable,  as  it  is  said  to  be  as  fine  as 
that  of  the  goat  of  Cashmere,  but  it  is  not  to 
be  procured  in  sufficient  quantities. 

The  ahsahta,  argali,  or  bighorn,  on  the  con- 
trary, has  short  hair  like  a  deer,  and  resembles 
it  in  shape,  but  has  the  head  and  horns  of  a 
sheep,  and  its  flesh  is  said  to  be  a  delicious 


:-i 


^i-l 


38 


1BonncviUc*B  Bdveiiturcd 


mutton.  The  Indians  consider  it  more  sweet 
and  delicate  than  any  other  kind  of  venison. 
It  abounds  in  the  Rocky  Mountains,  from  the 
fiftieth  degree  of  north  latitude,  quite  down  to 
California  ;  generally  in  the  highest  regions 
capable  of  vegetation  ;  sometimes  it  ventures 
into  the  valleys,  but  on  the  least  alarm,  regains 
its  favorite  clijBFs  and  precipices,  where  it  is 
perilous,  if  not  impossible  for  the  hunter  to 
follow.* 


*  Dimensions  of  a  male  of  this  species,  from  the  nose 
to  the  base  of  the  tail,  five  feet ;  length  of  the  tail, 
four  inches ;  girth  of  the  body,  four  feet ;  height, 
three  feet  eight  inches ;  the  horn,  three  feet  six  inches 
long  ;  one  foot  three  inches  in  circumference  at  base. 


Cbapter  W. 


An  Alarm — Crow  Indians — Their  Appearance — Mode 
of  Approach — ^Their  Vengeful  Errand — Their  Curi- 
osity— Hostility  between  the  Crows  and  Blackfeet 
— Irving  Conduct  of  the  Crows — Laramie's  Fork — 
First  Navigation  of  the  Nebraska — Great  Elevation 
of  the  Country — Rarity  of  the  Atmosphere— Its  Ef- 
fect on  the  Wood-work  of  Wagons— -Black  Hills — 
Their  Wild  and  Broken  Scenery — Indian  Dogs- 
Crow  Trophies— Sterile  and  Dreary  Country — 
Banks  of  the  Sweet  Water — Buffalo  Hunting — Ad- 
venture of  Tom  Cain,  the  Irish  Cook. 


WHEN  on  the  march,  Captain  Bonne- 
vrlle  always  sent  some  of  his  best 
hunters  in  the  advance  to  reconnoi- 
tre the  country,  as  well  as  to  look  out  for 
game.  On  the  24th  of  May,  as  the  caravan 
was  slowly  journeying  up  the  banks  of  the 
Nebraska,  the  hunters  came  grlloping  back, 
waving  their  caps,  and  giving  the  alarm  cry, 
Indians !  Indians  ! 
The  captain  immediately  ordered  a  halt :  the 

39 


40 


'   J9oiinevUU'0  Bdventuree 


hunters  now  came  up  and  announced  that  a 
large  war-party  of  Crow  Indians  were  just 
above,  on  the  river.  The  captain  knew  the 
character  of  these  savages  ;  one  of  the  most 
roving,  warlike,  crafty,  and  predatory  tribes  of 
the  mountains  ;  horse-stealors  of  the  first  order, 
and  easily  provoked  to  acts  of  sanguinary  vio- 
lence. Orders  were  accordingly  given  to  pre- 
pare for  action,  and  every  one  promptly  took 
the  post  that  had  been  assigned  him,  in  the 
general  order  of  the  march,  in  all  cases  of  war- 
like emergency. 

Everything  being  put  in  battle  array,  the 
captain  took  the  lead  of  his  little  band,  and 
moved  on  slowly  and  warily.  In  a  little  while 
he  beheld  the  Crow  warriors  emerging  from 
among  the  bluffs.  There  were  about  sixty  of 
them  ;  fine  martial-looking  fellows,  painted  and 
arrayed  for  war,  and  mounted  on  horses  decked 
out  with  all  kinds  of  wild  trappings.  They 
came  prancing  along  in  gallant  style,  with 
many  wild  and  dexterous  evolutions,  for  none 
can  surpass  them  in  horsemanship  ;  and  their 
bright  colors,  and  flaunting  and  fantastic  em- 
bellishments, glaring  and  sparkling  in  the 
morning  sunshine,  gave  them  really  a  striking 
appearance. 

Their  mode  of  approach  to  one  not  acquainted 
with  the  tactics  and  ceremonies  of  this  rude 


for 

train 

with 

ing 

kind 


B  \)cnQctnl  JErranO 


41 


chivalry  of  the  wilderness,  had  an  air  of  direct 
hostility.  They  came  galloping  forward  in  a 
body,  as  if  about  to  make  a  furious  charge, 
but,  when  close  at  hand,  opened  to  the  right 
and  left,  and  wheeled  in  wide  circles  round  the 
travellers,  whooping  and  yelling  like  maniacs. 

This  done,  their  mock  fury  sank  inlo  a  calm, 
and  the  chief,  approaching  the  captain,  who 
had  remained  warily  drawn  up,  though  in- 
formed of  the  pacific  nature  of  the  manoeuvre, 
extended  to  him  the  hand  of  friendship.  The 
pipe  of  peace  was  smoked,  and  now  all  was 
good  fellowship. 

The  Crows  were  in  pursuit  of  a  band  of 
Cheyennes,  who  had  attacked  their  village  in 
the  night,  and  killed  one  of  their  people. 
They  had  already  been  five  and  twenty  days 
on  the  track  of  the  marauders,  and  were  deter- 
mined not  to  return  home  until  they  had  sated 
their  revenge. 

A  few  days  previously,  some  of  their  scouts, 
who  were  ranging  the  country  at  a  distance 
from  the  main  body,  had  discovered  the  party 
of  Captain  Bonneville.  They  had  dogged  it 
for  a  time  in  secret,  astonished  at  the  long 
train  of  wagons  and  oxen,  and  especially  struck 
with  the  sight  of  a  cow  and  calf,  quietly  follow- 
ing the  caravan ;  supposing  them  to  be  some 
kind  of  tame  buffalo.     Having  satisfied  their 


.  1 


43 


Xonncviiic*6  BDveniuree 


curiosity,  they  carried  back  to  their  chief  intel- 
ligence of  all  that  they  had  seen.  He  had,  in 
consequence,  diverged  Irom  his  pursuit  of  ven- 
geance to  behold  the  wonders  described  to  him. 
*  *  Now  that  we  have  met  you, ' '  said  he  to  Cap- 
tain Bonneville,  "and  have  seen  these  marvels 
with  our  own  eyes,  our  hearts  are  glad."  In 
fact,  nothiiig  could  exceed  the  curiosity  evinced 
by  these  people  as  to  the  objects  before  them,, 
Wagons  l23d  never  been  seen  by  them  before, 
and  they  examined  them  with  the  greatest 
minuteness ;  but  the  calf  was  the  peculiar 
object  of  their  admiration.  They  watched  it 
with  intense  interest  as  it  licked  the  hands 
accustomed  to  feed  it,  and  were  struck  with 
the  mild  expression  of  its  countenance  and  its 
perfect  docility. 

After  much  sage  consultation,  they  at  length 
determined  that  it  must  be  the  * '  great  medi- 
cine "  of  the  white  party,  an  appellation  given 
by  the  Indians  to  anything  of  supernatural 
and  mysterious  power,  that  is  guarded  as  a 
talisman.  They  were  completely  thrown  out 
in  their  conjecture,  however,  by  an  offer  of  the 
white  men  to  exchange  the  calf  for  a  horse  ; 
their  estimation  of  the  great  medicine  sank  in 
an  ihstant,  and  they  declined  the  bargain. 

At  the  request  of  the  Crow  chieftain  the  two 
parties  encamped  together,  and  passed  the  resi- 


1 1  ■':;'■'■ 


!if- 


£nmits  of  tbe  Crowe  anD  JSlacltteet       43 


due  of  the  day  in  company.  The  captain  was 
well  pleased  with  every  opportunity  to  gain  a 
knowledge  of  the  "  unsophisticated  sons  of 
nature,"  who  had  so  long  been  objects  of  his 
poetic  speculations ;  and  indeed  this  wild, 
liorse  sUialing  tribe  is  one  of  the  most  notori- 
ous of  the  mountains.  The  chief,  of  course, 
had  hif  scalps  to  show  and  his  battles  to  re- 
count;. The  Blackfoot  is  the  hereditary  enemy 
*■  the  Crow,  towards  whom  hostility  is  like  a 
cherished  principle  of  religion  ;  for  every  tribe, 
besides  its  casual  antagonists,  has  some  endur- 
ing foe  with  whom  there  can  be  no  permanent 
reconciliation.  The  Crows  and  Blackfeet,  upon 
the  whole,  are  enemies  worthy  of  each  other, 
being  rogues  and  ruffians  of  the  first  water. 
As  their  predatory  excursions  extend  over  the 
same  regions,  they  often  come  in  contact  with 
each  other,  and  these  casual  conflicts  serve  to 
keep  their  wits  awake  and  their  passions 
alive. 

The  present  party  of  Crows,  however,  evinced 
nothing  of  the  invidious  character  for  which 
they  are  renowned.  During  the  day  and  night 
that  they  were  encamped  in  company  with  the 
travellers,  their  conduct  was  friendly  in  the 
extreme.  They  were,  in  fact,  quite  irksome 
in  their  attentions,  and  had  a  caressing  man- 
ner at   times  quite  importunate.     It  was  not 


*:f 


44 


JSonneville'0  BDventures 


1 
M 


until  after  separation  on  the  following  morn- 
ing, that  the  captain  and  his  men  ascertained 
the  secret  of  aU  this  loving-kindness.  In  the 
course  of  their  fraternal  caresses,  the  Crows 
had  contrived  to  emptj'  the  pockets  of  their 
white  brothers ;  to  abstract  the  very  buttons 
from  their  coats,  and,  above  all,  to  make  free 
with  their  hunting  knives. 

By  equal  altitudes  of  the  sun,  taken  at  this 
last  encampment.  Captain  Bonneville  ascer- 
tained his  latitude  to  be  41**  47'  north.  The 
thermometer,  at  six  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
stood  at  fifty-nine  degrees ;  at  two  o'clock 
p.  M.,  at  ninety-two  degrees  ;  and  at  six  o'clock 
in  the  evening,  at  seventy  degrees. 

The  Black  Hills,  or  Mountains,  now  began 
to  'be  seen  at  a  distance,  printing  the  horizon 
with  their  rugged  and  broken  outlines,  and 
threatening  to  oppose  a  diflficult  barrier  in  the 
way  of  the  travellers. 

On  the  26th  of  May,  the  travellers  encamped 
at  I^aramie's  Fork,  a  clear  and  beautiful  stream, 
rising  in  the  west-southwest,  maintaining  an 
average  width  of  twenty  yards,  and  winding 
through  broad  meadows  abounding  in  curr'  its 
and  gooseberries,  and  adorned  with  groves  and 
clumps  of  trees. 

By  an  observation  of  Jupiter*  s  satellites, 
with  a   Dolland   reflecting  telescope,  Captain 


Bonn< 
57'w< 
We 
obser 
of  wl 
bell, 
Comp 
in  ski] 
been  c 
About 
post  a 
Willia 
Ham  S 
becom 
For 
been  1 
countT 
ing,  b; 
tion  of 
.vood-^ 
wheels 
was  n( 
props 
travell 
steppei 
aridity 
unfit  f( 
a  freslL 
it  is  sc 


BriDit)?  ot  tbc  Btmoepbcrc 


45 


Bonneville  ascertained  the  longitude  to  be  102** 
57'  west  of  Greenwich. 

We  will  here  step  ahead  of  our  narrative  to 
observe,  that  about  three  years  after  thet'.ne 
of  which  we  are  treating,  Mr.  Robert  Camp- 
bell, formerly  of  the  Rcx:ky  Mountain  Fur 
Company,  descended  the  Platte  from  this  fork, 
in  skin  canoes,  thus  proving,  what  had  always 
been  discredited,  that  the  river  was  navigable. 
About  the  same  time,  he  built  p.  fort  or  trading 
post  at  Laramie's  Fork,  which  he  named  Fort 
William,  after  his  friend  and  partner,  Mr.  Wil- 
liam Sublette.  Since  that  time,  the  Platte  has 
become  a  highway  for  the  fur  traders. 

For  some  days  past.  Captain  Bonneville  had 
been  made  sensible  of  the  great  elevation  of 
country  into  which  he  was  gradually  ascend- 
ing, by  the  effect  of  the  dryness  and  rarefac- 
tion of  the  atmosphere  upon  his  wagons.  The 
,vood-work  shrunk  ;  the  paint  boxes  of  the 
wheels  were  continually  working  out,  and  it 
was  necessary  to  support  the  spokes  by  stout 
props  to  prevent  their  falling  asunder.  The 
travellers  were  now  entering  one  of  those  great 
steppes  of  he  Far  West,  where  the  prevalent 
aridity  of  the  atmosphere  renders  the  country 
unfit  for  cultivation.  In  these  regions  there  is 
a  fresh  sweet  growth  of  grass  in  the  spring,  but 
it  is  scanty  and  short,  and  parches  up  in  the 


46 


JSoinicviUe'0  BOveitturcd 


>i 


I 


course  of  the  summer,  lo  that  there  is  none  for 
the  hunters  to  set  fire  to  in  the  autumn.  It  is 
a  common  observation,  that  "  above  the  forks 
of  the  Platte  the  grass  doe*;  not  burn."  All 
attempts  at  agriculture  and  gardening  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Fort  William  have  been  at- 
tended with  very  little  success.  The  grain 
and  vegetables  raised  there  have  been  scanty 
in  quantity  and  poor  in  quality.  The  great 
elevation  of  these  plains,  and  the  dryness  of 
the  atmosphere,  will  tend  to  retain  these  im- 
mense regions  in  a  state  of  pristine  wildness. 

In  the  course  of  a  day  or  two  more,  the  trav- 
ellers entered  that  wild  and  broken  tract  of  the 
Crow  country  called  the  Black  Hills,  and  here 
their  journey  became  toilsome  in  the  extreme. 
Rugged  steeps  and  deep  ravines  incessantly 
obstructed  their  pro^'ress,  so  that  a  great  part 
of  the  day  was  spent  in  the  painful  toil  of  dig- 
ging through  banks,  filling  up  ravines,  forcing 
the  wagons  up  the  most  forbidding  ascents,  or 
swinging  them  with  ropes  down  the  face  of 
dangerous  precipices.  The  shoes  of  their 
horses  were  worn  out,  and  their  feet  injured 
by  the  rugged  and  stony  roads.  The  travel- 
lers were  annoyed  also  by  frequent  but  brief 
storms,  which  would  come  hurrying  over  the 
hills,  or  through  the  mountain  defiles,  rage 
with  great  fury  for  a  short  time,  and  then 


Indian  JDo^b 


47    . 


pass  off,  leaving  everything  calm  and  serene 
again. 

For  several  nights  the  camp  had  been  in- 
fested by  vagabond  Indian  dogs,  prowling 
about  in  quest  of  food.  They  were  about  the 
size  of  a  large  pointer ;  with  ears  short  and 
erect,  and  a  long  bushy  tail — altogether,  they 
bore  a  striking  resemblance  to  a  wolf.  These 
skulking  visitors  would  keep  about  the  pur- 
lieus of  the  camp  until  daylight ;  when,  on  the 
first  stir  of  life  among  the  sleepers,  they  would 
scamper  off  until  they  reached  some  rising 
ground,  where  they  would  take  their  seats, 
and  keep  a  sharp  and  hungry  watch  upon 
every  movement.  The  moment  the  travellers 
were  fairly  on  the  march,  and  the  camp  was 
abandoned,  these  starveling  hangers-on  would 
hasten  to  the  deserted  fires  to  seize  upon  the 
half- picked  bones,  the  offals  and  garbage  that 
lay  about ;  and,  having  made  a  hasty  meal, 
with  many  a  snap  and  ruarl  and  growl,  would 
follow  leisurely  on  the  trail  of  the  caravan. 
Many  attempts  were  made  to  coax  or  catch 
them,  but  in  vain.  Their  quick  and  suspicious 
eyes  caught  the  slightest  sinister  movement, 
and  they  turned  and  scampered  off.  At  length 
one  w^as  taken.  He  was  terribly  alarmed,  and 
crouched  and  trembled  as  if  expecting  instant 
death.    Soothed,  however,  by  caresses,  he  be- 


48 


JSonticv(IIc'0  B^vcnture0 


.  * 


jjan  after  a  time  to  gather  confidence  and  wag 
his  tail,  and  at  length  was  brought  to  follow 
close  at  the  heels  of  his  captors,  still,  however, 
darting  around  furtive  and  suspicious  glances, 
and  evincing  a  disposition  to  scamper  off  upon 
the  least  alarm. 

On  the  first  of  July  the  band  of  Crow  war- 
riors again  crossed  their  path.  They  came  in 
vaunting  and  vain-glorious  style ;  displaying 
five  Cheyenne  scalps,  the  trophies  of  their 
vengeance.  They  were  now  bound  home 
wards,  to  appease  the  manes  of  their  comrade 
by  these  proofs  that  his  death  had  been  re- 
venged, and  intended  to  have  scalp-dances  and 
other  triumphant  rejoicings.  Captain  Bonne- 
ville and  his  men,  however,  were  by  no  means 
disposed  to  renew  their  confiding  intimacy  with 
these  crafty  savages,  and  above  all,  took  care 
to  avoid  their  pilfering  caresses.  They  re- 
marked one  precaution  of  the  Crows  with  re- 
spect to  their  horses  ;  to  protect  their  hoofs 
from  the  sharp  and  jagged  rocks  among  which 
they  had  to  pass,  they  had  covered  them  with 
shoes  of  buffalo  hide. 

The  route  of  the  travellers  lay  generally 
along  the  course  of  the  Nebraska  or  Platte, 
but  occasionally,  where  steep  promontories  ad- 
vanced to  the  margin  of  the  stream,  they  were 
obliged  to  make  inland  circuits.    One  of  these 


powDcr  Ittvcr  Aountaine 


49 


took  them  through  a  bold  and  stern  country, 
bordered  by  a  range  of  low  mountains,  running 
east  and  west.  Everything  around  bore  traces 
of  some  fearful  convulsion  of  nature  in  times 
long  past.  Hit!ierto  the  various  strata  of  rock 
had  exhibited  a  gentle  elevation  towards  the 
southwest,  but  here  everything  appeared  to 
have  been  subverted,  and  thrown  out  of  place. 
In  many  places  there  were  heavy  beds  of  white 
sandstone  resting  upon  red.  Immense  strata 
of  rocks  j  utted  up  into  ?rags  and  cliffs ;  and 
sometimes  formed  perpendicular  walls  and 
overhanging  precipices.  An  air  of  sterility 
prevailed  over  these  savage  wastes.  The  val- 
leys were  destitute  of  herbage,  and  scantily 
clothed  with  a  stunted  species  of  wormwood, 
generally  known  among  traders  and  trappers 
by  the  name  of  sage.  From  an  elevated  point 
of  their  march  through  this  region,  the  travel- 
lers caught  a  beautiful  view  of  the  Powder 
River  Mountains  away  to  the  north,  stretching 
along  the  very  verge  of  the  horizon,  and  seem- 
ing, from  the  snow  with  which  they  were 
mantled,  to  be  a  chain  of  small  white  clouds, 
connecting  sky  and  earth. 

Though  the  thermometer  at  midday  ranged 
from  eighty  to  ninety,  and  even  sometimes  rose 
to  niney-three  degrees,  yet  occasional  spots  of 
snow  were  to  be  seen  on  the  tops  of  the  low 

VOL.  I. — 4 


'J 


:JJb, 


50 


3BonneviUe'0  BOventurce 


mountains,  among  which  the  travellers  were 
journeying  ;  proofs  of  the  great  elevation  of 
the  whole  region. 

The  Nebraska,  in  its  passage  through  the 
Black  Hills,  is  confined  to  a  much  narrower 
channel  than  that  through  which  it  flows  in 
the  plains  below  ;  but  it  is  deeper  and  clearer, 
and  rushes  with  a  stronger  current.  The 
scenery,  also,  is  more  varied  and  beautiful. 
Sometimes  it  glides  rapidly  but  smoothly 
through  a  picturesque  valley,  between  wooded 
banks ;  then,  forcing  its  way  into  the  bosom 
of  rugged  mountains,  it  rushes  impetuously 
through  narrow  defiles,  roaring  and  foaming 
down  rocks  and  rapids,  until  it  is  again  soothed 
to  rest  in  some  peaceful  valley. 

On  the  1 2th  of  July,  Captain  Bonneville 
abandoned  the  main  stream  of  the  Nebraska, 
which  was  continually  shouldered  by  rugged 
promontories,  and  making  a  bend  to  the  south- 
west, for  a  couple  of  days,  part  of  the  time 
over  plains  of  loose  sand,  encamped  on  the 
14th,  on  the  banks  of  the  Sweet  Water,  a 
stream  about  twenty  yards  in  breadth,  and 
four  or  five  feet  deep,  flowing  between  low 
banks  over  a  sandy  soil,  and  forming  oie  of 
the  forks  or  upper  branches  of  the  Nebraska. 
Up  this  stream  they  now  shaped  their  course 
for  several  successive  days,  tending  generally, 


Elevation  ot  tbc  Countri? 


51 


> 


to  the  west.  The  soil  was  light  and  sandy  ; 
the  country  much  diversified.  Frequently  the 
plains  were  studded  with  isolated  blocks  of 
rock,  sometimes  in  the  shape  of  a  half  globe, 
and  from  three  to  four  hundred  feet  high. 
These  singular  masses  had  occasionally  a  very 
imposing,  and  even  sublime  appearance,  rising 
from  the  midst  of  a  savage  and  lonely  land- 
scape. 

As  the  travellers  continued  to  advance,  they 
l)ecame  more  and  more  sensible  of  the  eleva- 
tion of  the  country.  The  hills  around  were 
more  generally  capped  with  snow.  The  men 
complained  of  cramps  and  colics,  sore  lips  and 
mouths,  and  violent  headaches.  The  wood- 
work of  the  wagons  also  shrank  so  much,  that 
it  was  with  difficulty  the  wheels  were  kept 
from  falling  to  pieces.  The  country  bordering 
upon  the  river  was  frequently  gashed  with 
deep  ravines,  or  traversed  by  high  bluffs,  to 
avoid  which,  the  travellers  were  obliged  to 
make  wide  circuits  through  the  plains.  In  the 
course  of  these,  they  came  upon  immense  herds 
of  buffalo,  which  kept  scouring  off  in  the  van, 
like  a  retreating  army. 

Among  the  motley  retainers  of  the  camp  was 
Tom  Cain,  a  raw  Irishman,  who  officiated  as 
cook,  whose  various  blunders  and  expedients 
in  his  novel  situation,  and  in  the  wild  scenes 


53 


Xonncvi\le*6  Bdventures 


and  wild  kind  of  life  into  which  he  had  sud- 
denly been  thrown,  had  made  him  a  kind  of 
butt  or  droll  of  the  camp.  Tom,  however, 
began  to  discover  an  ambition  superior  to  his 
station  ;  and  the  conversation  of  the  hunters, 
and  their  stories  of  their  exploits,  inspired  him 
with  a  desire  to  elevate  himself  to  the  dignity 
of  their  order.  The  buffalo  in  such  immense 
droves  presented  a  tempting  opportunity  for 
making  his  first  essay.  He  rode,  in  the  line  of 
march,  all  prepared  for  action  :  his  powder- 
flask  and  shot-pouch  knowingly  slung  at  the 
pommel  of  his  saddle,  to  be  at  hand  ;  his  rifle 
balanced  on  his  shoulder.  While  in  this  plight, 
a  troop  of  buffalo  came  trotting  by  in  great 
alarm.  In  an  instant,  Tom  sprang  from  his 
horse  and  gave  chase  on  foot.  Finding  they 
were  leaving  him  behind,  he  levelled  his  rifle 
and  pulled  trigger.  His  shot  produced  no  other 
effect  than  to  increase  the  speed  of  the  buffalo, 
and  to  frighten,  his  own  horse,  who  took  to  his 
heels,  and  scampered  off  with  all  the  ammuni- 
tion. Tom  scampered  after  him,  hallooing  with 
might  and  main,  and  the  wild  horse  and  wild 
Irishman  soon  disappeared  among  the  ravines 
of  the  prairie.  Captain  Bonneville,  who  was 
at  the  head  of  the  line,  and  had  seen  the  trans- 
action at  a  distance,  detached  a  party  in  pur- 
suit   of  Tom.     After    a   long    interval    they 


return* 

thougl 

looked 

they  h; 

As  < 

awkwa 

gers  of 

a  prairi 

hour,  t 

him  in 

At  e; 

were  se 

body,  £ 

course. 

afterno( 

est  Ton 

had  fou 

aiid  am 

of  merr 

could  n( 

pense : 

parentis 

rest  of  I 


'l|ii| 


XTom  Cain  tbe  Coo^ 


53 


returned,  leading  the  frightened  horse  ;  but 
though  they  had  scoured  the  country,  and 
looked  out  and  shouted  from  every  height, 
they  had  seen  nothing  of  his  rider. 

As  Captain  Bonneville  knew  Tom's  utter 
awkwardness  and  inexperience,  and  the  dan- 
gers of  a  bewildered  Irishman  in  the  midst  of 
a  prairie,  he  halted  and  encamped  at  an  early 
hour,  that  there  might  be  a  regular  hunt  for 
him  in  the  morning. 

At  early  dawn  on  the  following  day  scouts 
were  sent  off  in  every  direction,  while  the  main 
body,  after  breakfast,  proceeded  slowly  on  its 
course.  It  was  not  until  the  middle  of  the 
afternoon  that  the  hunters  returned,  with  hon- 
est Tom  mounted  behind  one  of  them.  They 
had  found  him  in  a  complete  state  of  perplexity 
aiid  amazement.  His  appearance  caused  shouts 
of  merriment  in  the  camp, — but  Tom  for  once 
could  not  join  in  the  mirth  raised  at  his  ex- 
pense :  he  was  completely  chapfallen,  and  ap- 
parently cured  of  the  hunting  mania  for  the 
rest  of  his  life. 


Cbaptet  ID* 

Magfoifiv-eot  Scenery — Wind  River  Mountains — Treas- 
ury of  Waters — A  Stray  Horse — An  Indian  Trail — 
Trout  Streams— The  Great  Green  River  Valley — An 
Alarm — A  Band  of  Trappers — Fontenelle,  his  In- 
formation— Sufferings  of  Thirst—Encampment  on 
the  Seeds-ke-dee — Strategy  of  Rival  Traders — For- 
tification of  the  Camp— The  Blackfeet — Banditti  of 
the  Mountains — Their  Character  and  Habits. 

IT  was  on  the  20th  of  July  that  Captain 
Bonneville  first  came  in  sight  of  the  grand 
region  of  his  hopes  and  anticipations,  the 
Rocky  Mountains.  He  had  been  making  a 
bend  to  the  south,  to  avoid  some  obstacles 
along  the  river,  and  had  attained  a  high,  rocky 
ridge,  when  a  magnificent  prospect  burst  upon 
his  sight.  To  the  west,  rof^  the  Wind  River 
Mountains,  with  their  blca/'hed  and  snowy 
summits  towering  into  the  clouds.  These 
stretched  far  to  the  north-northwest,  until  they 
melted  away  into  what  appeared  to  be  faint 
clouds,  but  which  the  experienced  eyt»  of  the 

54 


veterai 
ruggec 
feet  of 
a  peril 
trappei 
To  t 
immen: 
peared 
i  orizor 
anothei 
Rocky 
whose 
of  the  s 
Wee 
thy   cai 
mounta 
prise  th 
can  ima 
mi  ratio 
River  S 
fountai 
and  me 
take  th( 
miles 
their  w£ 
and  the 

The 
among  l 
chain  : 


Aaontflccnt  teeners 


55 


veteran  hunters  of  the  party  recogiiized  for  the 
rugged  mountains  of  the  Yellowstone  ;  at  the 
feet  of  which,  extended  the  wild  Crow  country, 
a  perilous,  though  profitable  region  for  the 
trapper. 

To  the  southwest,  the  eye  ranged  over  an 
immense  extent  of  wilderness,  with  what  ap- 
peared to  be  a  siiowy  vapor  resting  upon  its 
lorizon.  This,  however,  was  pointed  out  as 
another  branch  of  the  Great  Chippewyan,  or 
Rocky  chain  ;  being  the  Eutaw  Mountains,  at 
whose  basis  the  wandering  tribes  of  hunters 
of  the  same  name  pitch  their  tents. 

We  can  imagine  the  enthusiasm  of  the  wor- 
thy captain,  when  he  beheld  the  vast  and 
mountainous  scene  of  his  adventurous  enter- 
prise thus  suddenly  unveiled  before  him.  We 
can  imagine  with  what  feelings  of  awe  and  ad- 
miration he  must  have  contemplated  the  Wind 
River  Sierra,  or  bed  of  mountains  ;  that  great 
fountain-head,  from  whose  springs,  and  lakes, 
and  melted  snows,  some  of  those  mighty  rivers 
take  their  rise,  which  wander  over  hundreds  of 
miles  of  varied  country  and  clime,  and  find 
their  way  to  the  opposite  waves  of  the  Atlantic 
and  the  Pacific. 

The  Wind  Piver  Mountains  are,  in  fact, 
among  the  most  remarkable  of  the  whole  Rocky 
chain  ;  and   would  appear   to  be  among  the 


S6 


Xonncvi\lc*B  BDventurcd 


loftiest.  They  form,  as  it  were,  a  great  bed 
of  mountains,  about  eighty  miles  in  length, 
and  from  twenty  to  thirty  in  breadth  ;  with 
rugged  peaks,  covered  with  eternal  snows,  and 
deep,  narrow  valleys,  full  of  springs,  and 
brooks,  and  rock-bound  lakes.  From  this  great 
treasury  of  waters,  issue  forth  limpid  streams, 
which,  augmenting  as  they  descend,  become 
main  U'butaries  of  tl\e  Missouri  on  the  one  side, 
and  the  Columbia  on  the  other  ;  and  give  rise 
to  .  Seeds-ke-dee  Agie,  or  Green  River,  the 
great  C  ■•  orado  of  the  West,  that  empties  its 
current  into  the  Gulf  of  California. 

The  Wind  River  Mountains  are  notorious  in 
hunters*  and  trappers'  stories :  their  rugged  de- 
files, and  the  rough  tracts  about  their  neigh- 
borhood, having  been  lurking-places  for  the 
predatory  hordes  of  the  mountains,  and  scenes 
of  rough  encounter  with  Crows  and  Blackfeet. 
It  was  to  the  west  of  these  mountains,  in  the 
valley  of  the  Seeds-ke-dee  Agie,  or  Green 
River,  that  Captain  Bonneville  intended  to 
make  a  halt,  for  the  purpose  of  giving  repose  to 
his  people  and  his  horses,  after  their  weary 
journeying;  and  of  collecting  information  as 
to  his  future  course.  This  Green  River  Valley 
and  its  intermediate  neighborhood,  as  we  have 
already  observed,  formed  the  main  point  of 
rendezvot.s,  for  the  present  year,  of  the  rival 


fur  cc 
civilize 
Severa 
remain 
tliey  si 
place. 

On  t 

their  C( 

the  Sw 

at  a  lit 

their  aj 

be  take 

The  sec 

lookout 

some  da 

ing  in 

they  dis 

which  h 

borhood 

ingly  ta] 

more  vi^ 

the  cam 

should  b 

The  t: 

elevation 

there  wa: 

and  the 

grees.     ' 

to  affect 


B  Strai?  tyotec 


S7 


fur  companies,  and  the  motley  populace, 
civilized  and  savage,  connected  with  them. 
Several  days  of  rugged  travel,  however,  yet 
remained  for  the  captain  and  his  men,  before 
they  should  encamp  in  this  desired  resting- 
place. 

On  the  2ist  of  July,  as  they  were  pursuing 
their  course  through  one  of  the  meadows  of 
the  Sweet  Water,  they  beheld  a  horse  grazing 
at  a  little  distance.  He  showed  no  alarm  at 
their  approach,  but  suffered  himself  quietly  to 
be  taken,  evincing  a  perfect  state  of  tanieiiess. 
The  scouts  of  the  party  were  instantly  on  the 
lookout  for  the  owners  of  this  animal  ;  lest 
some  dangerous  band  of  savages  might  be  lurk- 
ing in  the  vicinity.  After  a  narrow  search, 
they  discovered  the  trail  of  an  Indian  party, 
which  had  evidently  passed  through  that  neigh- 
borhood but  recently.  The  horse  wa-'  accord- 
ingly taken  possession  of,  as  an  estray  ;  but  a 
more  vigilant  watch  than  usual  was  kept  round 
the  camps  at  nights,  lest  his  former  owners 
should  be  upon  the  prowl. 

The  travellers  had  now  attained  so  high  an 
elevation,  that  on  the  23d  of  July,  at  daybreak, 
there  was  considerable  ice  in  the  water-buckets, 
and  the  thermometer  stood  at  twenty-two  de- 
grees. The  rarity  of  the  atmosphere  continued 
to  affect  the  wood-work  of  the  wagons,  and 


58 


JSonncville'd  BbvcWutcb 


1 1  :i 


the  wheels  were  incessantly  fallinor  to  pieces.  A 
remedy  was  at  length  devised.  The  tire  of 
each  wheel  was  taken  off ;  a  band  of  wood  was 
nailed  round  the  exterior  of  the  felloes,  the  tire 
was  then  made  red  hot,  replaced  round  the 
wheel,  and  suddenly  cooled  with  water.  By 
this  means,  the  whole  was  bound  together  with 
great  compactness. 

The  extreme  elevation  of  these  great  steppes, 
which  range  along  the  feet  of  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains, takes  away  from  the  seeming  height  of 
their  peaks,  which  yield  to  few  in  the  known 
world  in  point  of  altitude  above  the  level  of  the 
sea. 

On  the  24th,  the  travellers  took  final  leave  of 
the  Sweet  Water,  and  keeping  westwardly,  over 
a  low  and  very  rocky  ridge,  one  of  the  most 
southern  spurs  of  the  Wind  River  Mountains, 
they  encamped,  after  a  march  of  seven  hours 
and  a  half,  on  the  banks  of  a  small  clear  stream, 
running  to  the  south,  in  which  they  caught  a 
number  of  fine  trout. 

The  sight  of  these  fish  was  hailed  with  pleas- 
ure, as  a  sign  that  they  had  reached  the  waters 
which  flow  into  the  Pacific ;  for  it  is  only  on 
the  western  streams  of  the  Rocky  Mountains 
that  trout  are  to  be  taken.  The  stream  on 
which  they  had  thus  encamped,  proved,  in 
effect,  to  be  tributary  to  the  Seeds-ke-dee  Agie. 


Orccn  1?lt»cr  lllallec 


59 


or  Green  River,  into  which  it  flowed,  at  some 
distance  to  the  south. 

Captain  Bonneville  now  considered  himself 
as  having  fairly  passed  the  crest  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains  ;  and  felt  some  degree  of  exultation 
in  being  the  first  individual  that  had  crossed, 
north  of  the  settled  provinces  of  Mexico,  from 
the  waters  of  the  Atlantic  to  those  of  the  Pa- 
cific, with  wagon**.  Mr.  William  Sublette,  the 
enterprising  leader  of  the  Rocky  Mountain  Fur 
Company  had,  two  or  three  years  previously, 
reached  the  valley  of  the  Wind  River,  which 
lies  on  the  northeast  of  the  mountains  ;  but  had 
proceeded  with  them  no  farther. 

A  vast  valley  now  spread  itself  before  the 
travellers,  bounded  on  one  side  by  the  Wind 
River  Mountains,  and  to  the  west,  by  a  long 
range  of  high  hills.  This,  Captain  Bonneville 
was  assured  by  a  veteran  hunter  l^.  his  com- 
pany, was  the  great  valley  of  the  Seeds-ke-dee  ; 
and  the  same  informant  would  fain  have  per- 
suaded him>  that  a  small  stream,  three  feet 
deep,  which  lie  came  to  on  the  25th,  was  that 
river*  The  captain  was  convinced,  however, 
that  the  stream  was  too  insignificant  to  drain 
so  wide  a  valley  and  the  adjacent  mountains  : 
he  encamped,  therefore,  at  an  early  hour,  on  its 
borders,  that  he  might  take  the  whole  of  the 
next  day  to  reach  the  main  river ;  which  he 


6o 


JSontievilIe'0  BOventuree 


m 


presumed  to  flow  between  him  and  the  distant 
range  of  western  hills. 

On  the  26th  of  July,  he  commenced  his  march 
at  an  early  hour,  making  directly  across  the 
valley,  towards  the  hills  in  the  west ;  proceed- 
ing at  as  brisk  a  rate  as  the  jaded  condition 
of  his  horses  would  permit.  About  eleven 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  a  great  cloud  of  dust 
was  descried  in  the  rear,  advancing  directly  on 
the  trail  of  the  party.  The  alarm  was  given  ; 
they  all  came  to  a  halt,  and  held  a  council  of 
war.  Some  conjectured  that  the  band  of  Indi- 
ans, whose  trail  they  had  discovered  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  stray  horse,  had  been  ly- 
ing in  wait  for  them,  *fi  some  secret  fastness  of 
the  mountains  ;  and  were  about  to  attack  them 
on  the  open  plain,  vvhere  they  would  have  no 
shelter.  Preparations  v/ere  immediately  made 
for  defense  ;  and  a  scouting  party  sent  off  to 
reconnoitre.  They  soon  came  galloping  back, 
making  signals  that  all  was  well.  The  cloud 
of  dust  was  made  by  a  band  of  fifty  or  sixty 
mounted  trappers,  belonging  to  tlif^  American 
Fur  Company,  who  soon  came  up,  leading 
their  pack-horses.  They  were  headed  by  Mr. 
Fontenelle,  an  exp'^rienced  leader,  or  "parti- 
san," as  a  chief  of  a  party  is  called,  in  the 
technical  language  of  the  trappers. 

Mr.  Fontenelle  informed  Captain  Bonneville, 


that  h 

trading 

rende7j 

for  the 

the  mo 

by  appi 

in    tha 

upon  t 

just  af 

that  th 

been  ob 

avoid   f 

ther'^foi 

place  tc 

was  dej 

which  \ 

River,  v 

He  hop 

horseba 

ling,  by 

bility  of 

his  wag 

imparte( 

v/ith  all 

Capta 

cumstan 

firm  an 

much  fa 

and  har 


#0)itencUc  a^^  ble  parte 


6t 


that  he  was  on  his  way  from  the  compatiy's 
trading  post  on  the  Yellowstone,  to  the  yearly 
rendezvous,  with  reinforcements  and  supplies 
for  their  hunting  and  trading  parties  l^eyond 
the  mountains  ;  and  that  he  expected  to  meet, 
by  appointment,  with  a  band  of  free  trapper- 
in  that  very  neighborhood.  He  had  f^^ 
upon  the  trail  of  Captain  Bonneville's  pa 
just  after  leaving  the  Nebraska ;  and,  fina,  i^ 
that  they  had  frightened  off  all  the  game,  had 
been  obliged  to  push  on,  by  forced  marches,  to 
avoid  famine ;  both  men  and  horses  were, 
ther'^fore,  much  travel-worn  ;  but  this  was  no 
place  to  halt ;  the  plain  before  them,  he  said, 
was  destitute  of  grass  and  water,  neither  of 
which  would  be  met  with  short  of  the  Green 
River,  which  was  yet  at  a  considerable  distance. 
He  hoped,  he  added,  as  his  party  were  all  on 
horseback,  to  reach  the  river,  with  hard  travel- 
ling, by  nightfall ;  but  he  doubted  the  possi- 
bility of  Captain  Bonneville's  arrival  there  with 
his  wagons  before  the  day  following.  Having 
imparted  this  information,  he  pushed  forward 
v/ith  all  speed. 

Captain  Bonneville  followed  on  as  fast  as  cir- 
cumstances would  permit.  The  ground  was 
firm  and  gravelly  ;  but  che  horses  were  too 
much  fatigued  to  move  rapidly.  After  a  long 
and  harassing  day's  march,  without  pausing 


$h 


Ta 


^/ 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


L;I28 


■so 


m  ui 


1.1 


US 


2.2 


L°    12.0 


11.25 


HiotographJc 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WIST  MAM  STRUT 

WnSTH,N.V.  14510 

(71«)  972.4503 


62 


Xonncvi{\c*B  BDventures 


W 


for  a  noontide  meal,  they  were  compelled,  at 
nine  o'clock  at  night,  to  encamp  in  an  open 
plain,  destitute  of  water  or  pasturage.  On  the 
following  morning,  the  horses  were  turned 
loose  at  the  peep  of  day  ;  to  slake  their  thirst, 
if  possible,  from  the  dew  collected  on  the  sparse 
grass,  here  and  there  spnnging  up  among  dry 
sand-banks.  The  soil  of  a  great  part  of  this 
Green  River  Valley  is  a  whitish  clay,  into 
which  the  rain  cannot  penetrate,  but  which 
dries  and  cracks  with  the  sun.  In  some  places 
it  produces  a  salt  weed,  and  grass  along  the  mar- 
gins of  the  streams ;  but  the  wilder  expanses 
of  it  are  desolate  and  barren.  It  was  not  until 
noon  that  Captain  Bonneville  reached  the 
banks  of  the  Seeds-ke-dee,  or  Colorado  of  the 
West  ;  in  the  meantime,  the  sufferings  of  both 
men  and  horses  had  been  excessive,  and  it  was 
with  almost  frantic  eagerness  that  t.hey  hurried 
to  allay  their  burning  thirst  in  the  limpid  cur- 
rent of  the  river. 

Fontenelle  and  his  party  had  not  fared  much 
better  ;  the  chief  part  had  managed  to  reach 
the  river  by  nightfall,  but  were  nearly  knocked 
up  by  the  exertion  :  the  horses  of  others  sank 
under  them,  and  they  were  obliged  to  pass  the 
night  upon  the  road. 

On  the  following  morning,  July  27th,  Fon- 
tenelle moved  his  camp  across  the  river  ;  while 


Capts 
tance 
meadi 
thejx 
and  U 
mouni 
spirit 
plain  ] 
The 
boaste 
brief,  1 
Fontet 
aged  t 
dians  \ 
by  offe 
the  end 
somew 
ters,  or 
curely, 
over  tc 
some  n 
petitor, 
for  the 
Fonten 
deavor 

As 
time  in 
horses 
and  as 


StintcQit  of  tbc  fur  ^rade 


63 


Captain  Bonneville  proceeded  some  little  dis- 
tance below,  where  there  was  a  small  but  fresh 
meadow,  yielding  abundant  pasturage.  Here 
the  poor  jaded  horses  were  turned  out  to  graze, 
and  take  their  rest :  the  weary  journey  up  the 
mountains  had  worn  them  down  in  flesh  and 
spirit ;  but  this  last  march  across  the  thirsty 
plain  had  nearly  finished  them. 

The  captain  had  here  the  first  taste  of  the 
boasted  strategy  of  the  fur  trade.  During  his 
brief,  but  social  encampment,  in  company  with 
Fontenelle,  that  experienced  trapper  had  man- 
aged to  win  over  a  number  of  Delaware  In- 
dians whom  the  captain  had  brought  with  him, 
by  offering  them  four  hundred  dollars  each,  for 
the  ensuing  autumnal  hunt.  The  captain  was 
somewhat  astonished  when  he  saw  these  hun- 
ters, on  whose  services  he  had  calculated  se- 
curely, suddenly  pack  up  their  traps,  and  go 
over  to  the  rival  camp.  That  he  might,  in 
some  measure,  however,  be  even  with  his  com- 
petitor, he  dispatched  two  scouts  to  look  out 
for  the  band  of  free  trappers  who  were  to  meet 
Fontenelle  in  this  neighborhood,  and  to  en- 
deavor to  bring  them  to  his  camp. 

As  it  would  be  necessary  to  remain  some 
time  in  this  neighborhood,  that  both  men  and 
horses  might  repose  and  recruit  their  strength  ; 
and  as  it  was  a  region  full  of  danger,  Captain 


64 


XonnevHlc*B  Bdventurea 


.f' ' 


Bonneville  proceeded  to  fortify  his  camp  with 
breastworks  of  logs  and  pickets. 

These  precautions  were,  at  that  time,  pecu- 
liarly necessary,  from  the  bands  of  Blaclcfeet 
Indians  which  were  roving  about  the  neighbor- 
hood. These  savages  are  the  most  dangerous 
banditti  of  the  mountains,  and  the  inveterate 
foe  of  the  trappers.  They  are  Ishmaelites  of 
the  first  order ;  always  with  weapon  in  hand, 
ready  for  action.  The  young  braver  of  the 
tribe,  who  are  destitute  of  property,  go  to  war 
for  booty  ;  to  gain  horses,  and  acquire  the 
means  of  setting  up  a  lodge,  supporting  a 
family,  and  entitling  themselves  to  a  seat  in 
the  public  councils.  The  veteran  warriors 
fight  merely  for  the  love  of  the  thing,  and  the 
consequence  which  success  gives  them  among 
their  people. 

They  are  capital  horsemen,  and  ^"♦^  generally 
well  mounted  on  short,  stout  hors  similar  to 
the  prairie  ponies,  to  be  met  with  at  St.  Louis. 
When  on  a  war  party,  however,  they  go  on 
foot,  to  enable  them  to  skulk  through  the 
country  with  greater  sccre':y  ;  to  keep  in  thick- 
ets and  ravines,  and  use  more  adroit  subter- 
fuges and  stratagems.  Their  mode  of  warfare 
is  entirely  by  ambush,  surprise,  and  sudden 
assaults  in  the  night  time.  If  they  succeed  in 
causing  a  panic,  they  dash  forward  with  a  head- 


JSIaclitreet  f  nMans 


65 


long  fury  :  if  the  enemy  is  on  the  alert,  and 
shows  no  signs  of  fear,  they  become  wary  and 
deliberate  in  their  movements. 

Some  of  them  are  armed  in  the  primitive 
style,  with  bows  and  arrows  ;  the  greater  part 
have  American  fusees,  made  after  the  fashion 
of  those  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company.  These 
they  procure  at  the  trading  post  of  the  Ameri- 
can Fur  Company,  on  Marias  River,  where 
they  traffic  their  peltries  for  arms,  ammuni- 
tion, clothing,  and  trinkets.  They  are  ex- 
tremely fond  of  spirituous  liquors  and  tobacco  ; 
for  which  nuisances  they  are  ready  to  ex- 
change, not  merely  their  guns  and  horses,  but 
even  their  wives  and  daughters.  As  they  are 
a  treacherous  race,  and  have  cherished  a  lurk- 
ing hostility  to  the  "whites  ever  since  one  of  their 
tribe  was  killed  by  Mr.  I^ewis,  the  associate  of 
General  Clarke,  in  his  exploring  expedition 
across  the  Rocky  Mountains,  the  American 
Fur  Company  is  obliged  constantly  to  keep  at 
that  post  a  garrison  of  sixty  or  seventy  men. 

Under  the  general  name  of  Blackfeet,  are 
comprehended  several  tribes  :  such  as  the  Sur- 
cies,  the  Peagans,  the  Blood  Indians,  and  the 
Gros  Ventres  of  the  Prairies  :  who  roam  about 
the  southern  branches  of  the  Yellowstone  and 
Missouri  rivers,  together  with  some  other  tribes 
further  north, 

\OU,  I.— J 


I  -  ■  H 


■J 


66 


3SonnevtUe'0  a&vcnti«rc0 


I    :  lu 


1^     y 


The  bands  infesting  the  Wind  River  Moun- 
tains, and  the  country  adjacent,  at  the  time  of 
which  we  are  treating,  were  Gros  Ventres  0/ 
the  Prairies^  which  are  not  to  be  confounded 
with  Gros  Ventres  of  the  Missouri^  who  keep 
about  the  lower  part  of  that  river,  and  are 
friendly  to  the  men. 

This  hostile  band  keeps  about  the  head- 
waters of  the  Missouri,  and  numbers  about 
nine  hundred  fighting  men.  Once  in  the  course 
of  two  or  three  years  they  abandon  their  usual 
abodes,  and  make  a  visit  to  the  Arapahoes  of 
the  Arkansas.  Their  route  lies  either  through 
the  Crow  country,  and  the  Black  Hills,  or 
through  the  lands  of  the  Nez  Percys,  Flatheads, 
Bannacks,  and  Shoshonies.  As  they  enjoy 
their  favorite  state  of  hostility  with  all  these 
tribes,  their  expeditions  are  prone  to  be  con- 
ducted in  the  most  lawless  and  predatory  style ; 
nor  do  they  hesitate  to  extend  their  maraudings 
to  any  party  of  white  men  they  meet  with  ; 
following  their  trails ;  hovering  about  their 
camps;  waylaying  and  dogging  the  caravans 
of  the  free  traders,  and  murdering  the  solitary 
trapper.  The  consequences  are,  frequent  and 
desperate  fights  between  them  and  the  "  moun- 
taineers," in  the  wild  defiles  and  fastnesses  of 
the  Rocky  Mountains. 

The  band  in  question  was,  at  this  time,  on 


asucftteet  InDians 


67 


their  way  homeward  from  one  of  their  custom- 
ary visits  to  the  Arapahoes ;  and  in  the  ensuing 
chapter,  we  shall  treat  of  some  bloody  encoun- 
ters between  them  and  the  trappers,  which  had 
taken  place  just  before  the  arrival  of  Captain 
Bonneville  among  the  mountains. 


on 


w 


^  1 


Cbapter  M • 

Sublette  and  his  Band— Robert  Cambell— Mr.  Wyeth 
and  a  Band  of'Down-Easters" — ^Yankee  Enter- 
prise— Fitzpatrick — His  Adventure  with  the  Black- 
feet— A  Rendezvous  of  Mountaineers— The  Battle  of 
Pierre's  Hole — An  Indian  Ambuscade — SuMette's 
Return. 

LEAVING  Captain  Bonneville  and  his  band 
ensconced  within  their  fortified  camp  in 
the  Green  River  Valley,  we  shall  step 
back  and  accompany  a  party  of  the  Rocky 
Mountain  Fur  Company  in  its  progress,  with 
supplies  from  St.  I^ouis,  to  the  annual  rendez- 
vous at  Pierre's  Hole.  This  party  consisted 
of  sixty  men,  well  mounted,  and  conducting  a 
line  of  pack-horses.  They  were  commanded 
by  Captain  William  Sublette,  a  partner  in  the 
company,  and  one  of  the  most  active,  intrepid, 
and  renowned  leaders  in  this  half-military  kind 
of  service.  He  was  accompanied  by  his  associ- 
ate in  business,  and  tried  companion  in  danger, 
Mr.  Robert  Campbell,  one  of  the  pioneers  of 

68  • 


the  tri 
mand( 
greate 
As 
route 
exped 
tains, 
easterj 
who,  ^ 
spirit 
way  ir 
they  ^ 
had  b 
commj 
Bostor 
idea,  t 
be  esta 
nected 
invests 
posed, 
numbc 
had  m 
thing 
brave 
undisi 
in  the 

♦In 
neousli 
captaii 


'*  2>own«JEa0ter0 


»» 


69 


the  trade  beyond  the  mountains,  who  had  com- 
manded trapping  parties  there  in  times  of  the 
greatest  peril. 

As  these  worthy  compeers  were  on  their 
route  to  the  frontier,  they  fell  in  with  another 
expedition,  likewise  on  its  way  to  the  moun- 
tains. This  was  a  party  of  regular  "  Down- 
easters,"  that  is  to  say,  people  of  New  England, 
who,  with  the  all-penetrating  and  all-pervading 
spirit  of  their  race,  were  now  pushing  their 
way  into  a  new  field  of  enterprise,  with  which 
they  were  totally  unacquainted.  The  party 
had  been  fitted  out,  and  was  maintained  and 
commanded  by  Mr.  Nathaniel  J.  Wyeth,  of 
Boston.*  This  gentleman  had  conceived  an 
idea,  that  a  profitable  fishery  for  salmon  might 
be  established  on  the  Columbia  River,  and  con- 
nected with  the  fur  trade.  He  had,  accordingly, 
invested  capital  in  goods,  calculated,  as  he  sup- 
posed, for  the  Indian  trade,  and  had  enlisted  a 
number  of  Eastern  men  in  his  employ,  \  I^o 
had  never  been  in  the  Far  West,  nor  knew  any- 
thing of  the  wilderness.  With  these,  he  was 
bravely  steering  his  way  across  the  continent, 
undismaj'ed  by  danger,  difficulty,  or  distance, 
in  the  same  way  that  a  New  England  coaster 

*  In  the  former  editions  of  this  work  we  have  erro- 
neously given  this  enterprising  individual  the  title  of 
captain. 


'I 


TO 


JSonnevfUe'd  Bdventure0 


■  '  i 


<  ;•.: 


'■■If 


and  his  neighbors  will  coolly  launch  forth  on  a 
voyage  to  the  Black  Sea,  or  a  whaling  cruise 
to  the  Pacific. 

With  all  their  national  aptitude  at  expedient 
and  resource,  Wyeth  and  his  men  felt  them- 
selves completely  at  a  loss  when  they  reached 
the  frontier,  and  found  that  the  wilderness  re- 
quired experience  and  habitudes  of  which  they 
were  totally  deficient.  Not  one  of  the  party, 
excepting  the  leader,  had  ever  seen  an  Indian 
or  handled  a  rifle  ;  they  were  without  guide  or 
interpreter,  and  totally  unacquainted  with 
**  wood  craft,"  and  the  modes  of  making  their 
way  among  savage  hordes,  and  subsisting  them- 
selves during  long  marches  over  wild  moun- 
tains and  barren  plains. 

In  this  predicament.  Captain  Sublette  found 
them,  in  a  manner  becalmed,  or  rather  run 
aground,  at  the  little  frontier  town  of  Inde- 
pendence, in  Missouri,  and  kindly  took  them 
in  tow.  The  two  parties  travelled  amicably 
together ;  the  frontier  men  of  Sublette's  party 
gave  their  Yankee  comrades  some  lessons  in 
hunting,  and  some  insight  into  the  art  and 
mystery  of  dealing  with  the  Indians,  and  they 
all  arrived  without  accident  at  the  upper 
branches  of  the  Nebraska  or  Platte  River. 

In  the  course  of  their  march,  Mr.  Fitzpatrick, 
the  partner  of  the  company  who  was  resident 


at  that 

from  tl 

them,  i 

in  com] 

Sweet  ^ 

one  foi 

horse,  ] 

to  mak 

that  he 

before  t 

Fitzp 

mounta 

files.     2 

up  the  < 

horsem* 

reconno 

detachn 

of  frien 

setting 

full  spe 

his    per 

upon  h 

other  t( 

tains,  a 

most  di 

himself 

off,  whe 

again  p 

only  es 


Ar.  yitspatrfclt 


71 


at  that  time  beyond  the  mountains,  came  down 
from  the  rendezvous  at  Pierre's  Hole  to  meet 
them,  and  hurry  them  forward.  He  travelled 
in  company  with  them  until  they  reached  the 
Sweet  Water  ;  then  taking  a  couple  of  horses, 
one  for  the  saddle,  and  the  other  as  a  pack- 
horse,  he  started  off  express  for  Pierre's  Hole, 
to  make  arrangements  against  their  arrival, 
that  he  might  commence  his  hunting  campaign 
before  the  rival  company. 

Fitzpatrick  was  a  hardy  and  experienced 
mountaineer,  and  knew  all  the  passes  and  de- 
files. As  he  was  pursuing  his  lonely  course 
up  the  Green  River  Valley,  he  descried  several 
horsemen  at  a  distance,  and  came  to  a  halt  to 
reconnoitre.  He  supposed  them  to  be  some 
detachment  from  the  rendezvous,  or  a  party 
of  friendly  Indians.  They  perceived  him,  and 
setting  up  the  war-whoop,  dashed  forward  at 
full  speed :  he  saw  at  once  his  mistake  and 
his  peril — they  were  Blackfeet.  Springing 
upon  his  fleetest  horse,  and  abandoning  the 
other  to  the  enemy,  he  made  for  the  moun- 
tains, and  succeeded  in  escaping  up  one  of  the 
most  dangerous  defiles.  Here  he  concealed 
himself  until  he  thought  the  Indians  had  gone 
off,  when  he  returned  into  the  valley.  He  was 
again  pursued,  lost  his  remaining  horse,  and 
only  escaped  by  scrambling    up  among  the 


■  11 


^11 


I   ■ 

.11 


72 


JSonnei^ne*0  S^veltturc0 


*< 


s .. 


cliffs.  For  several  days  he  remained  lurking 
among  rocks  and  precipices,  and  almost  fam- 
ished, having  but  one  remaining  charge  in  his 
rifle,  which  he  kept  for  self-defense. 

In  the  meantime,  Sublette  and  Campbell, 
with  their  fellow-traveller,  Wyeth,  had  pursued 
their  march  unmolested,  and  arrived  in  the 
Green  River  Valley,  totally  unconscious  that 
there  was  any  lurking  enemy  at  hand.  They 
had  encamped  one  night  on  the  banks  of  a 
small  stream,  which  came  down  from  the  Wind 
River  Mountains,  when  about  midnight,  a 
band  of  Indians  burst  upon  their  camp,  with 
horrible  yells  and  whoops,  and  a  discharge  of 
guns  and  arrows.  Happily  no  other  harm 
was  done  than  wounding  one  mule,  and  caus- 
ing several  horses  to  break  loose  from  their 
pickets.  The  camp  was  instantly  in  arms ; 
but  the  Indians  retreated  with  j'ells  of  exulta- 
tion, carrying  off  several  of  the  horses,  under 
covert  of  the  night. 

This  was  somewhat  of  a  disagreeable  fore- 
taste of  mountain  life  to  some  of  Wyeth' s  band, 
accustomed  only  to  the  regular  and  peaceful 
life  of  New  England  ;  nor  was  it  altogether  to 
the  taste  of  Captain  Sublette's  men,  who  were 
chiefly  Creoles  and  townsmen  from  St.  Louis. 
They  continued  their  march  the  next  morning, 
keeping  scouts  ahead  and  upon  their  flanks, 


and    ai 
Pierre'! 
The 
reach  in 
He  hac 
been  re 
ness  wa 
fallen  ii 
made  tl 
was  a  t 
he  made 
breed  I 
several  < 
starved 
his  ener 
as  to  m 
ing  on  h 
difficult; 
so  emac 
nized. 
The 
thirty 
boundec 
broken 
three  lo 
which 
tent  of  ( 
A  fine 
springs, 


pierre'0  Dole 


79 


and  arrived  without  further  molestation  at 
Pierre's  Hole. 

The  first  inquiry  of  Captain  Sublette,  on 
reaching  the  rendezvous,  was  for  Fitzpatrick. 
He  had  not  arrived,  nor  had  any  intelligence 
been  received  concerning  him.  Great  uneasi- 
ness was  now  entertained,  lest  he  should  have 
fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  Blackfeet,  who  had 
made  the  midnight  attack  upon  the  camp.  It 
was  a  matter  of  general  joy,  therefore,  when 
he  made  his  appearance,  conducted  by  two  half- 
breed  Iroquois  hunters.  He  had  lurked  for 
several  days  among  the  mountains,  until  almost 
starved  ;  at  length  he  escaped  the  vigilance  of 
his  enemies  in  the  night,  and  was  so  fortunate 
as  to  meet  the  two  Iroquois  hunters,  who,  be- 
ing on  horseback,  conveyed  him  without  further 
difficulty  to  the  rendezvous.  He  arrived  there 
so  emaciated  that  he  could  scarcely  be  recog- 
nized. 

The  valley  called  Pierre's  Hole  is  about 
thirty  miles  in  length  and  fifteen  in  width, 
bounded  to  the  west  and  south  by  low  and 
broken  ridges,  and  ov^erlooked  to  the  east  by 
three  lofty  mountains,  called  the  three  Tetons, 
which  domineer  as  landmarks  over  a  vast  ex- 
tent of  country. 

A  fine  stream,  fed  by  rivulets  and  mountain 
springs,  pours  through  the  valley  towards  the 


'Mi 


74 


XonncviU€*B  %bvcntuxc6 


■.V 


:  >Ai 


1 


I 


1 1  '']^, 


north,  dividing  it  into  nearly  equal  parts.  The 
meadows  on  its  borders  are  broad  and  extensive, 
covered  with  willow  and  cotton-wood  trees,  so 
closely  interlocked  and  matted  together,  as  to 
be  nearly  impassable. 

In  this  valley  was  congregated  the  motley 
populace  connected  with  the  fur  trade.  Here 
the  two  rival  companies  had  their  encamp- 
ments, with  their  retainers  of  all  kinds ;  traders, 
trappers,  hunters,  and  half-breeds,  assembled 
from  all  quarters,  awaiting  their  yearly  sup- 
plies, and  their  orders  to  start  off  in  new  direc- 
tions. Here,  also,  the  savage  tribes  connected 
with  the  trade,  the  Nez  Percys  or  Chopunnish 
Indians,  and  Flatheads,  had  pitched  their 
lodgings  beside  the  streams,  and  with  their 
squaws  awaited  the  distribution  of  goods  and 
finery.  There  was,  moreover,  a  band  of  fifteen 
free  trappers,  commanded  by  a  gallant  leader 
from  Arkansas,  named  Sinclair,  who  held  their 
encampment  a  little  apart  from  the  rest.  Such 
was  the  wild  and  heterogeneous  assemblage, 
amounting  to  several  hundred  men,  civilized 
and  savage,  distributed  in  tents  and  lodges  '.A 
the  several  camps. 

The  arrival  of  Captain  vSublette  with  supplies 
put  the  Rocky  Mountain  Fur  Company  in  full 
activity.  The  wares  and  merchandise  were 
quickly  opened,  and  as  quickly  disposed  of  to 


i  s 


SuMette'0  J9ri0aDe 


n 


trappers  and  Indians ;  the  usual  excitement 
and  revelry  took  place,  after  which,  all  hands 
began  to  disperse  to  their  several  destinations. 
On  the  17th  of  July,  a  small  brigade  of  four- 
teen trappers,  led  by  Milton  Sublette,  brother 
of  the  captain,  set  out  with  the  intention  of 
proceeding  to  the  southwest.  They  were  ac- 
companied by  Sinclair  and  his  fifteen  free  trap- 
pers ;  Wyeth,  also,  and  his  New  England  band 
of  beaver  hunters  and  salmon  fishers,  now 
dwindled  down  to  eleven,  took  this  opportunity 
to  prosecute  their  cruise  in  the  wilderness, 
accompanied  with  such  experienced  pilots. 
On  the  first  day,  they  proceeded  about  eight 
miles  to  the  southeast,  and  encamped  for  the 
night,  still  in  the  valley  of  Pierre's  Hole.  On 
the  following  morning,  just  as  they  were  rais- 
ing their  camp,  they  observed  a  long  line  of 
people  pouring  down  a  defile  of  the  mountains. 
They  at  first  supposed  them  to  be  Fontenelle 
and  his  party,  whose  arrival  had  been  daily 
expected.  Wyeth,  however,  reconnoitered 
them  with  a  spy-glass,  and  soon  perceived 
they  were  Indians.  They  were  divided  into 
two  parties,  forming,  in  the  whole,  about  one 
hundred  and  fifty  persons,  men,  women,  and 
children.  Som*^  were  on  horseback,  fantasti- 
cally painted  and  arrayed,  with  scarlet  blankets 
fluttering  in  the  wind.     The  greater  part,  how- 


Ma 


:W 


<8 


■II 


# 


Y^> 


JSonncville'd  Bdvcnturce 


ever,  were  on  foot.  They  had  perceived  the 
trappers  before  they  were  themselves  dis- 
covered, and  came  down  yelling  and  whooping 
into  the  plain.  On  nearer  approach,  they 
were  ascertained  to  be  Blackfeet. 

One  of  the  trappers  of  Sublette's  brigade, 
a  half-breed,  named  Antoine  Godin,  now 
mounted  his  horse,  and  rode  forth  as  if  to  hold 
a  conference.  He  was  the  son  of  an  Iroquois 
hunter,  who  had  been  cruelly  murdered  by  the 
Blackfeet  at  a  small  stream  below  the  moun- 
tains, which  still  bears  his  name.  In  company 
with  Antoine  rode  forth  a  Flathead  Indian, 
whose  once  powerful  tribe  had  been  completely 
broken  down  in  their  wars  with  the  Blackfeet. 
Both  of  them,  therefore,  cherished  the  most 
vengeful  hostility  against  these  marauders  of 
the  mountains.  The  Blackfeet  came  to  a  halt. 
One  of  the  chiefs  advanced  singly  and  un- 
armed, bearing  the  pipe  of  peace.  This  over- 
ture was  certainly  pacific  ;  but  Antoine  and 
the  Flathead  were  predisposed  to  hostility,  and 
pretended  to  consider  it  a  treacherous  move- 
ment. 

' '  Is  your  piece  charged  ?  ' '  said  Antoine, 
to  his  red  companion. 

"It  is." 

"  Then  cock  it,  and  follow  me.**  ^ 

They  met  the  Blackfoot  chief  half-way,  who 


exte 
gras] 


(< 


Tl 
thaE 
off  hi 
ment 
the  Ci 
after 
themj 
willow 
vines, 
the  w 
a  brea 
the  be 
mishe 
Tht 
front, 
As  to 
caster 
this  sc 
the  VL 
fightii 
how  t 
skilful 
camp 
breast 
his  m< 
of  the 


Encc     ter  witb  tbe  JSIacMeet 


77 


extended  his  hand  in  friendship.  Antoine 
grasped  it. 

**  Fire  !  "  cried  he. 

The  Flathead  levelled  his  piece,  and  brought 
the  Blackfoot  to  the  ground.  Antoine  snatched 
oflf  his  scarlet  blanket,  which  was  richly  orna- 
mented, and  galloped  off  with  it  as  a  trophy  to 
the  camp,  the  bullets  of  the  enemy  whistling 
after  him.  The  Indians  immediately  threw 
themselves  into  the  edge  of  a  swamp,  among 
willows  and  cotton-wood  trees,  interwoven  with 
vines.  Here  they  began  to  fortify  themselves  ; 
the  women  digging  a  trench,  and  throwing  up 
a  breastwork  of  logs  and  branches,  deep  hid  in 
the  bosom  of  the  wood,  while  the  warriors  skir- 
mished at  the  edge  to  keep  the  trappers  at  bay. 

The  latter  took  their  station  in  a  ravine  in 
front,  whence  they  kept  up  a  scattering  fire. 
As  to  Wyeth,  and  his  little  band  of  "Down- 
easters,"  they  were  perfectly  astounded  by 
this  second  specimen  of  life  in  the  wilderness  ; 
the  men,  being  especially  unused  to  bush- 
fighting  and  the  use  of  the  rifle,  were  at  a  loss 
how  to  proceed.  Wyeth,  however,  acted  as  a 
skilful  commander.  He  got  all  his  horses  into 
camp  and  secured  them ;  then,  making  a 
breastwork  of  his  packs  of  goods,  he  charged 
his  men  to  remain  in  garrison,  and  not  stir  out 
of  their  fort.    For  himself,  he  mingled  with 


*  ^\i.^ 


\  H 

■  *  ■  i 


Itl   'i 


78 


JSonnei?UIc*0  Bdt^enturea 


the  other  leaders,  determined  to  take  his  share 
in  the  conflict. 

In  the  meantime,  an  express  had  been  sent 
off  to  the  rendezvous  for  reinforcements.  Cap- 
tain Sublette,  and  his  associate,  Campbell, 
were  at  their  camp  when  the  express  came 
galloping  across  the  plain,  waving  his  cap,  and 
giving  the  alarm  :  "  Blackfeet !  Blackfeet !  a 
fight  in  the  upper  part  of  the  valley  ! — to  arms ! 
to  arms  ! ' ' 

The  alarm  was  passed  from  camp  to  camp. 
It  was  a  common  cause.  Every  one  turned 
out  with  horse  and  rifle.  The  Nez  Perc6s  and 
Flatheads  joined.  As  fast  as  horsemen  could 
arm  and  mount  they  galloped  off ;  the  valley 
was  soon  alive  with  white  men  and  red  men 
scouring  at  full  speed. 

Sublette  ordered  his  men  to  keep  to  the 
camp,  being  recruits*  from  St.  Louis,  and  un- 
used to  Indian  warfare.  He  and  his  friend 
Campbell  prepared  for  action.  Throwing  off 
their  coats,  rolling  up  their  sleeves,  and  arm- 
ing themselves  with  pistols  and  rifles,  they 
mounted  their  horses  and  dashed  forward 
among  the  first.  As  they  rode  along,  they 
made  their  wills  in  soldier-like  style  ;  each 
stating  how  his  effects  should  be  disposed  of 
in  case  of  his  death,  and  appointing  the  other 
his  executor. 


Th< 

brigac 

to  def 

the    V 

horser 

They 

complt 

tangle( 

dren  1 

trappe: 

swamp 

the  BU 

saries, 

breed  \ 

Whe 

penetra 

hung  b 

place,  i 

peradoc 

allies, 

regarde 

frightfu 

from  hii 

into  th( 

to  accoi 

OUS    W0( 

and  tol< 
who  kn 
This  do 


ui'i- 


3Btt0b«fi0btfn0 


79 


The  Blackfeet  warriors  had  supposed  the 
brigade  of  Milton  Sublette  all  the  foe  they  had 
to  deal  with,  and  were  astonished  to  behold 
the  whole  valley  suddenly  swarming  with 
horsemen,  galloping  to  the  field  of  action. 
They  withdrew  into  their  fort,  which  was 
completely  hid  from  sight  in  the  dark  and 
tangled  wood.  Most  of  their  women  and  chil- 
dren had  retreated  to  the  mountains.  The 
trappers  now  sallied  forth  and  approached  the 
swamp,  firing  into  the  thickets  at  random  ; 
the  Blackfeet  had  a  better  sight  at  their  adver- 
saries, who  were  in  the  open  field,  and  a  half- 
breed  was  wounded  in  the  shoulder. 

When  Captain  Sublette  arrived,  he  urged  to 
penetrate  the  swamp  and  storm  the  fort,  but  all 
hung  back  in  awe  of  the  dismal  horrors  of  the 
place,  and  the  danger  of  attacking  such  des- 
peradoes in  their  savage  den.  The  very  Indian 
allies,  though  accustomed  to  bush-fighting, 
regarded  it  as  almost  impenetrable,  and  full  of 
frightful  danger.  Sublette  was  not  to  be  turned 
from  his  purpose,  but  offered  to  lead  the  way 
into  the  swamp.  Campbell  stepped  forward 
to  accompany  him.  Before  entering  the  peril- 
ous wood,  Sublette  took  his  brothers  aside, 
and  told  them  that  in  case  he  fell,  Campbell, 
who  knew  his  will,  was  to  be  his  executor. 
This  done,  he  grasped  his  rifle  and  pushed  into 


80 


J8onnevllle'0  Bdvetiturcd 


■  1  ■ 


.1 » 


the  thickets,  followed  by  Campbell.  Sinclair, 
the  partisan  from  Arkansas,  was  at  the  edge  of 
the  wood  with  his  brother  and  a  few  of  his 
men.  Excited  by  the  gallant  example  of  the 
two  friends,  he  pressed  forward  to  share  their 
dangers. 

The  swamp  was  produced  by  the  labors  of 
the  beaver,  which,  by  damming  up  a  stream, 
had  inundated  a  portion  of  the  valley.  The 
place  was  all  overgrown  with  woods  and  thick- 
ets, so  closely  matted  and  entangled  that  it 
was  impossible  to  see  ten  paces  ahead,  and  the 
three  associates  in  peril  had  to  crawl  along,  one 
after  another,  making  their  way  by  putting  the 
branches  and  vines  aside  ;  but  doing  it  with 
caution,  lest  they  should  attract  the  eye  of 
some  lurking  marksman.  They  took  the  lead 
by  turns,  each  advancing  about  twenty  yards 
at  a  time,  and  now  and  then  hallooing  to  their 
men  to  follow.  Some  of  the  latter  gradually 
entered  the  swamp,  and  followed  a  little  dis- 
tance in  the  rear. 

They  had  now  reached  a  more  open  part  of 
the  wood,  and  had  glimpses  of  the  rude  fortress 
from  between  the  trees.  It  was  a  mere  breast- 
work, as  we  have  said,  of  logs  and  branches, 
with  blankets,  buffalo  robes,  and  the  leathern 
covers  of  lodges,  extended  round  the  top  as  a 
screen.     The  movements  of  the  leaders,  as 


they 

the  ; 

wasi 

aside 

on  th 

he  to 

to  soi 

the  s\ 

Sul 

reconi 

peepir 

his  ri] 

ball  si 

was  r 

pointe( 

place,' 

fair  ch 

the  wo 

der,  ai 

thougl 

other 

ascerta 

was  no 

faint  tl 

him  in 

thicket 

wound< 

A  br 

taineers 

VOL. 


attack  on  tbe  1n^<an  fort 


81 


they  groped  their  way,  had  been  descried  by 
the  sharp-sighted  enemy.  As  Sinclair,  who 
was  in  the  advance,  was  putting  some  branches 
aside,  he  was  shot  through  the  body.  He  fell 
on  the  spot.  **  Take  me  to  my  brother,"  said 
he  to  Campbell.  The  latter  gave  him  in  charge 
to  some  of  the  men,  who  conveyed  him  out  of 
the  swamp. 

Sublette  now  took  the  advance.  As  he  was 
reconnoitering  the  fort,  he  perceived  an  Indian 
peeping  through  an  aperture.  In  an  instant 
his  rifle  was  levelled  and  discharged,  and  the 
ball  struck  the  savage  in  the  eye.  While  he 
was  reloading,  he  called  to  Campbell,  and 
pointed  out  to  him  the  hole;  "Watch  that 
place,"  said  he,  "and  you  will  soon  have  a 
fair  chance  for  a  shot."  Scarce  had  he  uttered 
the  words,  when  a  ball  struck  him  in  the  shoul- 
der, and  almost  wheeled  him  round.  His  first 
thought  was  to  take  hold  of  his  arm  with  his 
other  hand,  and  move  it  up  and  down.  He 
ascertained,  to  his  satisfaction,  that  the  bone 
was  not  broken.  The  next  moment  he  was  so 
faint  that  he  could  not  stand.  Campbell  took 
him  in  his  Arms  and  carried  him  out  of  the 
thicket.  The  same  shot  that  struck  Sublette, 
wounded  another  man  in  the  head. 

A  brisk  fire  was  now  opened  by  the  moun- 
taineers from  the  wood,  answered  occasionally 


:;  >l 


VOt.  I.- 


. 


Ml 


83 


XonncviWB  Bdventures 


,M? 


■■n 


from  the  fort.  Unluckily,  the  trappers  and 
their  allies,  in  searching  for  the  fort,  had  got 
scattered,  so  that  Wyeth,  and  a  number  of  Nez 
Percds,  approached  the  fort  on  the  northwest 
side,  while  others  did  the  same  on  the  opposite 
quarter.  A  cross-fire  thus  took  place,  which 
occasionally  did  mischief  to  friends  as  well  as 
foes.  An  Indian  was  shot  down,  close  to 
Wyeth,  by  a  ball  which,  he  was  convinced, 
had  been  sped  from  the  rifle  of  a  trapper  on  the 
other  side  of  the  fort. 

The  number  of  whites  and  their  Indian  allies, 
had  by  this  time  so  much  increased  by  arrivals 
from  the  rendezvous,  that  the  Blackfeet  were 
completely  overmatched.  They  kept  doggedly 
in  their  fort,  however,  making  no  offer  of  sur- 
render. An  occasional  firing  into  the  breast- 
work was  kept  up  during  the  day.  Now  and 
then,  one  of  the  Indian  allies,  in  bravado, 
would  rush  up  to  the  fort,  fire  over  the  ram- 
parts, tear  off  a  buffalo  robe  or  a  scarlet  blanket, 
and  return  with  it  in  triumph  to  his  comrades. 
Most  of  the  savage  garrison  that  fell,  however, 
were  killed  in  the  first  part  of  the  attack. 

At  one  time  it  was  resolved  to  *set  fire  to  the 
fort ;  and  the  squaws  belonging  to  the  allies 
were  employed  to  collect  combustibles.  This, 
however,  was  abandoned ;  the  Nez  Percys 
being  unwilling  to  destroy,  the  robes  and  blan- 


kets, 
they  f 
The 
taunt 
the  pi 
Blackl 

and  b 
when  1 
die  wit 
burn  I 
and  yc 
soon  h 
lodges 
soon  b 
hearts 
This 
times 
By  the 
chief  vi 
lodges 
ment  at 
one  nov 
rendezv 
upon  th 
As  nigl 
swamp, 
wood, 
turned 


I 


i»  i 


Speecb  of  JSIacfifeet  Cbfef 


83 


kets,  and  other  spoils  of  the  enemy,  which 
they  felt  sure  would  fall  into  their  hands. 

The  Indians,  when  fighting,  are  prone  to 
taunt  and  revile  each  other.  During  one  of 
the  pauses  of  the  battle,  the  voice  of  the 
Blackfeet  chief  was  heard. 

*'So  long,"  said  he,  "as  we  had  powder 
and  ball,  we  fought  you  in  the  open  field  : 
when  those  were  spent,  we  retreated  here  to 
die  with  our  women  and  children.  You  may 
burn  us  in  our  fort ;  but,  stay  by  our  ashes, 
and  you  who  are  so  hungry  for  fighting,  will 
soon  have  enough.  There  are  four  hundred 
lodges  of  our  brethren  at  hand.  They  will 
soon  be  here — their  arms  are  strong — their 
hearts  are  big — they  will  avenge  us  !  " 

This  speech  was  translated  two  or  three 
times  by  Nez  Perc6  and  Creole  interpreters. 
By  the  time  it  was  rendered  into  English,  the 
chief  was  made  to  say,  that  four  hundred 
lodges  of  his  tribe  were  attacking  the  encamp- 
ment at  the  other  end  of  the  valley.  Every 
one  now  was  for  hurrying  to  the  defense  of  the 
rendezvous.  A  party  was  left  to  keep  watch 
upon  the  fort ;  the  rest  galloped  off  to  the  camp. 
As  night  came  on,  the  trappers  drew  out  of  the 
swamp,  and  remained  about  the  skirts  of  the 
wood.  By  morning,  their  companions  re- 
turned from  the  rendezvous,  with  the  report 


I 


^n 


-  !  ■ 


J9onnevtlle*d  Bdventuree 


that  all  was  safe.  As  the  day  opened,  they 
ventured  within  the  swamp  and  approached 
the  fort.  All  was  silent.  They  advanced  up 
to  it  without  opposition.  They  entered  :  it 
had  been  abandoned  in  the  night,  and  the 
Blackfeet  had  effected  their  retreat,  carrying 
off  their  wounded  on  litters  made  of  branches, 
leaving  bloody  traces  on  the  herbage.  The 
bodies  of  ten  Indians  were  found  within  the 
fort :  among  them  the  one  shot  in  the  eye  by 
Sublette.  The  Blackfeet  afterwards  reported 
that  they  had  lost  twenty-six  warriors  in  this 
battle.  Thirty-two  horses  were  likewise  found 
killed  ;  among  them  were  some  of  those  recently 
carried  off  from  Sublette's  party,  in  the  night ; 
which  showed  that  these  were  the  very  savages 
that  had  attacked  him.  They  proved  to  be  an 
advanced  party  of  the  main  body  of  Blackfeet, 
which  had  been  upon  the  trail  of  Sublette's 
party.  Five  white  men  and  one  half-breed 
were  killed,  and  several  wounded.  Seven  of 
the  Nez  Percys  were  also  killed,  and  six 
wounded.  They  had  an  old  chief,  who  was 
reputed  as  invulnerable.  In  the  course  of  the 
action  he  was  hit  by  a  spent  ball,  and  threw 
up  blood;  but  his  skin  was  unbroken.  His 
people  were  now  fully  convinced  that  he  was 
proof  against  powder  and  ball. 

A  striking  circumstance  is  related  as  having 


occurr 
some  I 
were  a 
they  b< 
and  fe; 
surpris 
the  hai 
they  sa 
Either 
their  a] 
silent  a 
yell,  on 
pers  CO 
upon   tl 
abandor 
credited 
the  batt 
without 
him.     I 
evta  to 
to  believ 
After 
Sublette 
Wyeth's 
days  at 
of   Blac 
nothing 
put  thei 
their  rou 


Devotion  ot  a  Squaw 


85 


occurred  the  morning  after  the  battle.  As 
some  of  the  trappers  and  their  Indian  allies 
were  approaching  the  fort,  through  the  woods, 
they  beheld  an  Indian  woman,  of  noble  form 
and  features,  leaning  against  a  tree.  Their 
surprise  at  her  lingering  here  alone,  to  fall  into 
the  hands  of  her  enemies,  was  dispelled,  when 
they  saw  the  corpse  of  a  warrior  at  her  feet. 
Either  she  was  so  lost  in  grief  as  not  to  perceive 
their  approach,  or  a  proud  spirit  kept  her 
silent  and  motionless.  The  Indians  set  up  a 
yell,  on  discovering  her,  and  before  the  trap- 
pers could  interfere,  her  mangled  body  fell 
upon  the  corpse  which  she  had  refused  to 
abandon.  We  have  heard  the  anecdote  dis- 
credited by  one  of  the  leaders  who  had  been  in 
the  battle,  but  the  fact  may  have  taken  place 
without  his  seeing  it,  and  been  concealed  from 
him.  It  is  an  instance  of  female  devotion, 
evca  to  the  death,  which  we  are  well  disposed 
to  believe  and  to  record. 

After  the  battle,  the  brigade  of  Milton 
Sublette,  together  with  the  free  trappers,  and 
Wyeth's  New  England  band,  remained  some 
days  at  the  rendezvous,  to  see  if  the  main  body 
of  Blackfeet  intended  to  make  an  attack  ; 
nothing  of  the  kind  occurring,  they  once'more 
put  themselves  in  motion,  and  proceeded  on 
their  route  towards  the  southwest. 


86 


J8onnevtUe'0  BDvcnturcs 


:: 


Captain  Sublette  having  distril)iited  his  sup- 
plies, had  intended  to  set  off  on  his  return  to 
St.  Louis,  taking  with  him  the  peltries  col- 
lected from  the  trappers  and  Indians.  His 
wound,  however,  obliged  him  to  postpone  his 
departure.  Several  who  were  to  have  accom- 
panied him,  became  impatient  of  this  delay. 
Among  these  was  a  young  Bostonian,  Mr. 
Joseph  More,  one  of  the  followers  of  Mr. 
Wyeth,  who  had  seen  enough  of  mountain  life 
and  savage  warfare,  and  was  eager  to  return  to 
'the  abodes  of  civilization.  He  and  six  others, 
among  whom  were  a  Mr.  Foy,  of  Mississippi, 
Mr.  Alfred  K.  Stephens,  of  St.  Louis,  and  two 
grandsons  of  the  celebrated  Daniel  Boon,  set 
out  together,  in  advance  of  Sublette's  party, 
thinking  they  would  make  their  own  way 
through  the  mountains. 

It  was  just  fi^-e  days  after  the  battle  of  the 
swamp,  that  these  seven  companions  were  mak- 
ing their  way  through  Jackson's  Hole,  a  valley 
not  far  from  the  three  Tetons,  when,  as  they 
were  descending  a  hill,  a  party  of  Blackfeet 
that  lay  in  ambush  started  up  with  terrific  yells. 
The  horse  of  the  yor.ng  Bostoniar.  .  ;,  was 
in  front,  wheeled  round  with  ailiight,  and 
threw'  his  unskilled  rider.  The  young  man 
scrambled  up  the  side  of  the  hill,  but,  unac- 
custo.'ed  to  such  wild  scenes,  lost  his  presence 


of  jiiii 

edge  < 

and  sl( 

fled  on 

and  St 

they  hi 

'•ir''  It 

Fo>'   w 

vcivly 

afterwa 

cajup  c 

this  ne\ 

as  he  c 

return  t 

As  the; 

laden 

differei 

the  wa}' 

of  Black 

frontier 

them   w 

months 

woodlan 

long    ca 

nearly  hj 

in  a  slit 

hunting 

mounted 

a  hill  oft 


V 

1 


Itcturn  to  ^t.  loufe 


•7 


of  mind,  and  stood,  as  if  paralysed  on  the 
edge  of  a  bank,  until  the  Bla<  K'feet  came  up 
and  slew  him  on  the  spot.  His  comrades  had 
fled  on  the  first  alarm  ;  but  two  of  them,  hoy 
and  Stephens,  seeing  his  danger,  pau  d  when 
they  had  got  half-way  up  the  hill,  turnc  '  back, 
(lis:r  )t'^ted,  and  hastened  to  his  assistance. 
Fos'  w.'S  instantly  killed.  Stephens  was  se- 
vcicly  wounded,  but  escaped,  to  die  five  df  s 
afterwards.  The  survivors  returned  to  the 
camp  of  Captain  Sublette,  bringing  tidings  of 
this  new  disaster.  That  hardy  leader,  as  soon 
as  he  could  bear  the  journey,  set  out  on  his 
return  to  St.  I/^uis,  accompanied  by  Campbell. 
As  they  had  a  number  of  pack-horses  richly 
laden  with  peltries  to  convoy,  they  chose  a 
different  route  through  the  mountains,  out  of 
the  way,  as  they  hoped,  of  the  lurking  bands 
of  Blackfe,et.  They  succeeded  in  making  the 
frontier  in  safety.  We  remember  to  have  seen 
them  with  their  band,  about  two  or  three 
months  afterwards,  passing  through  a  skirt  of 
woodland  in  the  upper  part  of  Missouri.  Their 
long  cavalcade  stretched  in  single  file  for 
nearly  half  a  mile.  Sublette  still  wore  his  arm 
in  a  sling.  The  mountaineers  in  their  rude 
hunting  drp«ses»  armed  with  rifles,  and  roughly 
mounted,  and  leading  their  pack-horses  down 
a  hill  of  the  forest,  leaked  like  banditti  return- 


8S 


JSonneviKe'd  BDt'cnturcx) 


ing  with  plunder.  On  the  top  of  some  of  the 
packs  were  perched  several  half-breed  children, 
perfect  little  imps,  with  wild  black  eyes  glar- 
ing from  among  elf  locks.  These,  I  was  told, 
were  .hildrcn  of  the  trappers  :  pledges  of  love 
from  tneir  squaw  spouses  in  the  wilderness. 


Retreat 
ger— < 
Trapp 
ments 
Their 
Good  < 
a  Recc 

THI 
! 

the  vall 

where  t 

The  wl 

fighting 

late  disa 

and  chil 

bold  anc 

ture  ;  bi 

ings,  th< 

Fontene 

Green  B 

pers,  th< 


Cbapter  IDf  f  * 

Retreat  of  the  Blackfeet — Fontenelle*s  Camp  in  Dan- 
ger— Captain  Bonneville  and  the  Blackfeet — Free 
Trappers — Their  Character,  Habits,  Dress,  Equip- 
ments, Horses — Game  Fellows  of  the  Mountains — 
Their  Visit  to  the  Camp— Good  Fellowship  and 
Good  Cheer — A  Carouse — A  Swagger,  a  Brawl,  and 
a  Reconciliation. 

THE  Blackfeet  warriors,  when  they  effected 
their  midnight  retreat  from  their  wild 
fastness  in  Pierre's  Hole,  fell  back  into 
the  valley  of  the  Seeds-ke-dee,  or  Green  River, 
where  they  joined  the  main  body  of  their  band. 
The  whole  force  amounted  to  several  hundred 
fighting  men,  gloomy  and  exasperated  by  their 
late  disaster.  They  had  with  them  their  wives 
and  children,  which  incapacitated  them  for  any 
bold  and  extensive  enterprise  of  a  warlike  na- 
ture ;  but  when,  in  the  course  of  their  wander- 
ings, they  came  in  sight  of  the  encampment  of 
Fontenelle,  who  had  moved  some  distance  up 
Green  River  Valley  in  search  of  the  free  trap- 
pers, they  put  up  tremendous  war-cries,  and 

«9 


go 


XonncvilWe  Bdventurcd 


K  r 


advanced  fiercely  as  if  to  attack  it.  Second 
thoughts  caused  them  to  moderate  their  fury. 
They  recollected  the  severe  lesson  just  received, 
and  could  not  but  remark  the  strength  of  Fon- 
tenelle's  position,  which  had  been  chosen  with 
great  judgment. 

A  forma!  talk  ensued.  The  Black  feet  said 
nothing  of  the  late  battle,  of  which  Fontenelle 
had  as  yet  received  no  accounts  ;  the  latter, 
however,  knew  the  hostile  and  perfidious  na- 
ture of  these  savages,  and  took  care  to  inform 
them  of  the  encampment  of  Captain  Bonne- 
ville, that  they  might  know  there  were  more 
white  men  in  the  neighborhood. 

The  conference  ended,  Fontenelle  sent  a 
Delaware  Indian  of  his  party  to  conduct  fif- 
teen of  the  Black  feet  to  the  camp  of  Captain 
Bonneville.  There  were  at  that  time  two  Crow 
Indians  in  the  captain's  camp,  who  had  re- 
cently arrived  there.  They  looked  with  dis- 
may at  this  deputation  from  their  implacable 
enemies,  and  gave  the  captain  a  terrible  char- 
acter of  them,  assuring  him  that  the  best  thing 
he  could  possibly  do,  was  to  put  those  Black- 
feet  deputies  to  death  on  the  spot.  The  cap- 
tain, however,  who  had  heard  nothing  of  the 
conflict  at  Pierre's  Hole,  declined  all  compli- 
ance with  this  sage  counsel.  He  treated  the 
grim  warriors  with  his  usual  urbanity.     They 


passc' 
doubt 
milita 
enem 
bemc 
to  rep 
Th( 
had  s( 
pers, 
them 
searct 
thies 
meani 


necess 
enlist 
have  ] 


weapoi 
These 
every 
the  sei 
ing    ai 
guard ; 
the  cai 
The 
class ; 
little  ni 
tion  of 
come  £ 
they  p] 


free  TTrappere 


9> 


passed  some  little  time  at  the  camp,  saw,  no 
doubt,  that  everything  was  conducted  with 
military  skill  and  vigilance,  and  that  such  an 
enemy  was  not  to  be  easily  surprised,  lior  to 
be  molested  with  impunity,  and  then  departed, 
to  report  all  they  had  seen  to  their  comrades. 

The  two  scouts  which  Captain  Bonneville 
had  sent  out  to  seek  for  the  band  of  free  trap- 
pers, expected  by  Fontenelle,  and  to  invite 
them  to  his  camp,  had  been  successful  in  their 
search,  and  on  the  12th  of  August  those  wor- 
thies made  their  appearance.  To  explain  the 
meaning  of  the  appellation,  free  trapper,  it  is 
necessary  to  state  the  terms  on  which  the  men 
enlist  in  the  service  of  the  fur  companies.  Some 
have  regular  wages,  and  are  furnished  with 
weapons,  horses,  traps,  and  other  requisites. 
These  are  under  command,  and  bound  to  do 
every  duty  required  of  them  connected  with 
the  service  ;  such  as  hunting,  trapping,  load- 
ing and  unloading  the  horses,  mounting 
guard ;  and,  in  short,  all  the  drudgery  of 
the  camp.     These  are  the  hired  trappers. 

The  free  trappers  are  a  more  independent 
class ;  and  in  describing  them,  we  shall  do 
little  more  than  transcribe  the  graphic  descrip- 
tion of  them  by  Captain  Bonneville.  "They 
come  and  go,"  says  he,  '*  when  and  where 
they  please  ;  provide  their  own  horses,  arms,. 


:  I  k 
-I 


♦M 


92 


Xonncvillc*B  BDventures 


and  other  equipments  ;  trap  and  trade  on  their 
own  account,  and  dispose  of  their  skins  and 
peltries  to  the  highest  bidder.  Sometimes,  in 
a  dangerous  hunting  ground,  they  attach  them- 
selves to  the  camp  of  some  trader  for  protec- 
tion. Here  they  come  under  some  restrictions  ; 
they  have  to  conform  to  the  ordinary  rules  for 
trapping,  and  to  submit  to  such  restraints,  and 
to  take  part  in  such  general  duties,  as  are  es- 
tablished for  the  good  order  and  safety  of  the 
camp.  In  return  for  this  protection,  and  for 
their  camp  keeping,  they  are  bound  to  dispose 
of  all  the  beaver  they  take,  to  the  trader  who 
commands  the  camp,  at  a  certain  rate  per  skin  ; 
or,  should  they  prefer  seeking  a  market  else- 
where, they  are  to  make  him  an  allowance,  of 
from  thirty  to  forty  dollars  for  the  whole  hunt. 
There  is  an  inferior  order,  who,  either  from 
prudence  or  poverty,  come  to  these  dangerous 
hunting  grounds  without  horses  or  accoutre- 
ments, and  are  furnished  by  the  traders. 
These,  like  the  hired  trappers,  are  bound  to 
exert  themselves  to  the  utmost  in  taking 
beaver,  which,  without  skinning,  they  render 
in  at  the  trader's  lodge,  where  a  stipulated 
price  for  each  is  placed  to  their  credit.  These, 
though  generally  included  in  the  generic  name 
of  free  trappers,  have  the  more  specific  title  of 
skin  trappers. 


V 


ri 


TTrappere'  Bquipments 


93 


The  wandering  whites  who  mingle  for  any 
length  of  time  with  the  savages,  have  invaria- 
bly a  proneness  to  adopt  savage  habitudes  ; 
but  none  more  so  than  the  free  trappers.  It  is 
a  matter  of  vanity  and  ambition  with  them  to 
discard  everything  that  may  bear  the  stamp  of 
civilized  life,  and  to  adopt  tlie  manners,  habits, 
dress,  gesture,  and  even  walk  of  the  Indian. 
You  cannot  pay  a  free  trapper  a  greater  com- 
pliment, than  to  persuade  him  you  have  mis- 
taken him  for  an  Indian  brave  ;  and,  in  truth, 
the  counterfeit  is  complete.  His  hair,  suffered 
to  attain  to  a  great  length,  is  carefully  combed 
out,  and  either  left  to  fall  carelessly  over  his 
shoulders,  or  plaited  neatly  and  tied  up  in  otter 
skins,  or  parti-colored  ribbons.  A  hunting- 
shirt  of  ruffled  calico  of  bright  dyes,  or  of 
ornamented  leather,  falls  to  his  knees ;  below 
which,  curiously  fashioned  leggins,  orna- 
mented with  vStrings,  fringes,  and  a  profusion  of 
hawks'  bells,  reach  to  a  cosily  pair  of  moc- 
casins of  the  finest  Indian  fabric,  richly  em- 
broidered with  beads.  A  blanket  of  scarlet, 
or  some  other  bright  color,  hangs  from  his 
shoulders,  and  is  girt  round  his  waist  with  a 
red  sash,  in  which  he  bestows  his  pistols,  knife, 
and  the  stem  of  his  Indian  pipe,  preparations 
for  peace  or  war.  His  gun  is  lavishly  deco- 
ated  with  brass  tacks  and  vermilion,  and  pro- 


I 

i 


54 


JSonneviIIe'0  BDventurea 


i  I 


vided  with  a  fringed  cover,  occasfonally  of 
buckskin,  ornamented  here  and  there  with  a 
feather.  His  horse,  the  noble  minister  to  the 
pride,  pleasure,  and  profit  of  the  mountaineer, 
is  selected  for  his  speed  and  spirit,  and  prancing 
gait,  and  holds  a  place  in  his  estimation  second 
only  to  himself.  He  shares  largely  of  his 
bounty,  and  of  his  pride  and  pomp  of  trapping. 
He  is  caparisoned  in  the  most  dashing  and 
fantastic  style  ;  the  bridles  and  crupper  are 
weightily  embossed  with  beads  and  cockades  ; 
and  head,  mane,  and  tail  are  interwoven  with 
abundance  of  eagles'  plumes,  which  flutter  in 
the  wind.  To  complete  this  grotesque  equip- 
ment, the  proud  animal  is  bestreaked  and 
bespotted  with  vermilion,  or  with  white  clay, 
whichever  presents  the  most  glaring  contrast 
to  his  real  color. 

Such  is  the  account  given  by  Captain  Bon- 
neville of  these  rangers  of  the  wilderness,  and 
their  appearance  at  the  camp  was  strikingly 
characteristic.  They  came  dashing  forward 
at  full  speed,  firing  their  fusees,  and  yelling 
in  Indian  style.  Their  dark  sunburnt  faces, 
and  long  flowing  hair,  their  leggins,  flaps, 
moccasins,  and  richly-dyed  blankets,  and  their 
painted  horses  gaudily  caparisoned,  gave  them 
so  much  the  air  and  appearance  of  Indians, 
that  it  was  difficult  to  purstiade  one's  self  that 


they 

up  in 

Cap 

the  g2 

tains, 

and  oi 

them, 

gart  s] 

finest 

garfon 

the  da 

it   was 

Thep: 

trappe: 

among 

men  u 

or  por 

cilious 

ness. 

the  ho 

among 

seen,  a 

advent 

tains. 

Inth 
returns 
delight 
acquaii 
lowing 


\ 


"ISiM 


CavaIicr0  of  tbe  Aountain^ 


95 


they  were  white  men,  and  had  been  brought 
up  in  civilized  life. 

Captain  Bonneville,  who  was  delighted  with 
the  game  look  of  these  cavaliers  of  the  moun- 
tains, welcomed  them  heartily  to  his  camp, 
and  ordered  a  free  allowance  of  grog  to  regale 
them,  which  soon  put  them  in  the  most  brag- 
gart spirit.  They  pronounced  the  captain  the 
finest  fellow  in  the  world,  and  his  men  all  bons 
garfons,  jovial  lads,  and  swore  they  would  pass 
the  day  with  them.  They  did  so  ;  and  a  day 
it  was,  of  boast,  swagger,  and  rodomontade. 
The  prime  bullies  and  braves  among  the  free 
trappers  had  each  his  circle  of  novices,  from 
among  the  captain's  band  ;  mere  greenhorns, 
men  unused  to  Indian  life  ;  manguers  de  lard, 
or  pork  eaters,  as  such  new-comers  are  super- 
ciliously called  by  the  veterans  of  the  wilder- 
ness. These  he  would  astonish  and  delight  by 
the  hour,  with  prodigious  tales  of  his  doings 
among  the  Indians  ;  and  of  the  wonders  he  had 
seen,  and  the  wonders  he  had  performed,  in  his 
adventurous  peregrinations  among  the  moun- 
tains. 

In  the  evening,  the  free  trappers  drew  off,  and 
returned  to  the  camp  of  Fontenelle,  highly 
delighted  with  their  visit  and  w\th  their  new 
acquaintances,  and  promising  to  return  the  fol- 
lowing day.     They  kept  their  word  :  day  after 


1: 


90 


J3onneviUe'0  adventures 


day  their  visits  were  repeated ;  they  became 
"  hail  fellow  well  met "  with  Captain  Bonne- 
ville's men  ;  treat  after  treat  succeeded,  until 
both  parties  got  most  potently  convinced,  or 
rather  confounded,  by  liquor.  Now  came  on 
confusion  and  uproar.  The  free  trappers  were 
no  longer  suffered  to  have  all  the  swagger  to 
themselves.  The  camp  bullies  and  prime  trap- 
pers of  the  party  began  to  ruffle  up,  and  to 
brag,  in  turn,  of  their  perils  and  achievements. 
Each  now  tried  to  out-boast  and  out-talk  the 
other  ;  a  quarrel  ensued  as  a  matter  of  course, 
and  a  ,;eneral  fight,  according  to  frontier  usage. 
The  two  factions  drew  out  their  forces  for  a 
pitched  battle.  They  fell  to  work  and  be- 
labored each  other  with  might  and  main  ;  kicks 
and  cuffs  and  dry  blows  were  as  well  bestowed 
as  they  were  well  merited,  until,  having  fought 
to  their  heart's  content,  and  been  drubbed  into 
a  familiar  acquaintance  with  each  other's 
prowess  and  good  qualities,  they  ended  the 
fight  by  becoming  firmer  friends  than  they 
could  have  been  rendered  by  a  year's  peacable 
companionship. 

While  Captain  Bonneville  amused  himself  by 
observing  the  habits  and  characteristics  of  this 
singular  clads  of-  men,  and  indulged  them,  for 
the  time,  in  all  their  vagaries,  he  profited  by 
the  opportunity  to  collect  from  them  informa- 


Cbaracter  of  tbe  ZtibcB 


97 


tion  conceminjy  the  different  parts  of  the  coun- 
try about  whi  jh  they  had  been  accustomed  to 
range ;  the  characters  of  the  tribes,  and,  in 
short,  everything  important  to  his  enterprise. 
He  also  succeeded  in  securing  the  services  of 
several  to  guide  and  aid  him  in  his  peregrina- 
tions among  the  mountains,  and  to  trap  for  him 
during  the  ensuing  season.  Having  strength- 
ened his  party  with  such  valuable  recruits,  he 
felt  in  some  measure  consoled  ifor  the  loss  of 
the  Delaware  Indians,  decoyed  from  him  by 
Mr.  Fontenelle. 


VOL.  1.- 


dbapter  mil. 

Plans  for  the  Winter — Salmon  River — Abundance  of 
Salmon  West  of  the  Mountains — New  Arrange- 
ments— Caches — Genre's  Detachment — Movem<'nts 
in  Pontenelle's  Camp— Departure  of  the  Black  feet 
— Their  Fortunes — Wind  Mountain  Streams — Buck; 
eye,  the  Delaware  Hunter,  and  the  Grizzly  Bear- 
Bones  of  Murdered  Travellers — ^Visit  to  Pierre's 
Hole — Traces  of  the  Battle — Nez  Perc6  Indians— 
Arrival  at  Salmon  River. 

THE  information  derived  from  the  free  trap- 
pers determined  Captain  Bonneville  as 
to  his  further  movements.  He  learnt 
that  in  the  Green  River  Valley  the  winters  were 
severe,  the  snow  frequently  falling  to  the  depth 
of  several  feet ;  and  that  there  was  no  good 
wintering  ground  in  the  neighborhood.  The 
upper  part  of  Salmon  River  was  represented  as 
far  more  eligible,  besides  being  in  an  excellent 
beaver  country ;  and  thither  the  captain  re- 
solved to  bend  his  course. 
The   Salmon    River   is  one  of  the  upper 

98 


branc 

takes 

group 

Wind 

immet 

the  m< 

salmot 

tains  a 

vast  tt 

that  c( 

buffalo 

way  in 

along  1 

every  v 

so  the 

lated  bl 

swarm 

their  wi 

minutes 

the  gre 

among 

tribes  a 

derness, 

mals  of 

periodic 

man  to  « 

The  r 

into  the 

exhaust] 


1 


Salmon  'River 


99 


re- 


branches of  the  Oregon  or  Columbia  ;  and 
takes  its  rise  from  various  sources,  among  a 
group  of  mountains  to  the  northwest  of  the 
Wind  River  chain.  It  owes  its  name  to  the 
immense  shoals  of  salmon  which  ascend  it  in 
the  months  of  September  and  October.  The 
salmon  on  the  west  side  of  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains are,  like  the  buffalo  on  the  eastern  plains, 
vast  migrator>'  supplies  for  the  wants  of  man, 
that  come  and  go  with  the  seasons.  As  the 
buffalo  in  countless  throngs  find  their  certain 
way  in  the  transient  pastuiage  on  the  prairies, 
along  the  fresh  banks  of  the  rivers,  and  up 
every  valley  and  green  defile  of  the  mountains, 
so  the  salmon,  at  their  allotted  seasons,  regu- 
lated by  a  sublime  and  all-seeing  Providence, 
swarm  in  myriads  up  the  great  rivers,  and  find 
their  way  up  their  main  branches,  and  into  the 
minutest  tributary  streams ;  so  as  to  pervade 
the  great  arid  plains,  and  to  penetrate  even 
among  barren  mountains.  Thus  wandering 
tribes  are  fed  in  the  desert  places  of  the  wil- 
derness, where  there  is  no  herbage  for  the  ani- 
mals of  the  chase,  and  where,  but  for  these 
periodical  supplies,  it  would  be  impossible  for 
man  to  subsist. 

The  rapid  currents  of  the  rivers  which  run 
into  the  Pacific  render  the  ascent  of  them  very 
exhausting  to  the  salmon.    When  the  fish  first 


too 


JSonncvfllc'd  Bdvcnturea 


niti  up  the  rivfers,  they  are  fat  and  in  fine  or- 
der. The  stniggle  against  impetuous  streams 
and  frequent  rapids  gradually  renders  them 
thin  and  weak,  and  great  numbers  are  seen 
floating  down  the  rivers  on  their  backs.  As 
the  season  advances  and  the  water  becomes 
chilled,  they  are  flung  in  myriads  on  the  shores, 
where  the  wolves  and  bears  assemble  to  ban- 
quet on  them.  Often  they  rot  in  such  quanti- 
ties along  the  river  banks,  as  to  taint  the 
atmosphere.  They  are  commonly  from  two  to 
three  feet  long. 

Captain  Bonneville  now  made  his  arrange- 
ments for  the  autumn  and  the  winter.  The 
nature  of  the  country  through  which  he  was 
about  to  travel  rendered  it  impossible  to  pro- 
ceed v/ith  wagons.  He  had  more  goods  and 
supplies  of  various  kinds,  also,  than  were  re- 
quired for  prtsent  purposes,  or  than  could  be 
conveniently  transported  on  horseback  ;  aided, 
therefore,  by  a  few  confidential  men,  he  made 
caches,  or  secret  pits,  during  the  night,  when 
all  the  rest  of  the  camp  were  asleep,  and  in 
these  deposited  the  superfluous  effects,  to- 
gether with  the  wagons.  All  traces  of  the 
caches  were  then  carefully  obliterated.  This  is 
a  common  expedient  with  the  traders  and 
trappers  of  the  mountains.  Having  no  estab- 
lished posts  and  magazines,  they  make  these 


caches  ( 

they  rej 

expedie 

of  India 

Man> 

lame  as 

the  mou 

cavalcac 

enced  ti 

was  to 

trappers 

of  the  C 

was  goo 

neighbor 

the  Sho! 

yearly  m 

for  peltr 

traded  wi 

and  recr 

was  to 

Captain 

quarters 

*  A  villc 
not  alwayi 
wandering 
of  the  ino 
but  are  a  t 
and  shiftin 
according 


BcrAiHicmentd  tor  tbc  TIDllntcr 


lOI 


caches  or  deposits  at  certain  points,  whither 
they  repair  occasionally,  for  supplies.  It  is  an 
expedient  derived  from  the  wandering  tribes 
of  Indians. 

Many  of  the  horses  were  still  so  weak  and 
lame  as  to  be  unfit  for  a  long  scramble  through 
the  mountains.  These  were  collected  into  one 
cavalcade,  and  given  in  charge  to  an  experi- 
enced trapper,  of  the  name  of  Matthieu.  He 
was  to  proceed  westward,  with  a  brigade  of 
trappers,  to  Bear  River ;  a  stream  to  the  west 
of  the  Green  River  or  Colorado,  where  there 
was  good  pasturage  for  the  horses.  In  this 
neighborhood  it  was  expected  he  would  meet 
the  Shoshonie  villages  or  bands,*  on  their 
yearly  migrations,  with  whom  he  was  to  trade 
for  peltries  and  provisions.  After  he  had 
traded  with  these  people,  finished  his  trappings, 
and  recruited  the  strength  of  the  horses,  he 
was  to  proceed  to  Salmon  River  and  rejoin 
Captain  Bonneville,  who  intended  to  fix  his 
quarters  there  for  the  winter. 

*  A  village  of  Indians,  in  trappers'  language,  does 
not  always  imply  a  fixed  community ;  but  often  a 
wandering  horde  or  band.  The  Shoshonies,  like  most 
of  the  mountain  tribes,  have  no  settled  residences ; 
but  are  a  nomadic  people,  dwelling  in  tents  or  lodges, 
and  shifting  their  encampments  from  place  to  place, 
according  as  fish  and  game  abound. 


I02 


J8onneville'0  BDventurcs 


:f:.  :,^ 


V   > 


While  these  arrangements  were  in  progress 
lu  the  camp  of  Captain  Bonneville,  there  was  a 
sudden  bustle  and  stir  in  the  camp  of  Fonte- 
nelle.  One  of  the  partners  of  the  American 
Fur  Company  had  arrived,  in  all  haste,  from 
the  rendezvous  at  Pierre's  Hole,  in  quest  of 
the  supplies.  The  competition  between  the 
two  rival  companies  was  just  now  at  its  height, 
and  prosecuted  with  unusual  zeal.  The  tra- 
montane concerns  of  the  Rocky  Mountain  Fur 
Company  were  managed  by  two  resident  part- 
ners, Fitzpatrick  and  Bridger ;  those  of  the 
American  Fur  Company,  by  Vanderburgh  and 
Dripps.  The  latter  were  ignorant  of  the 
mountain  regions,  but  trusted  to  make  up  by 
vigilance  and  activity  for  their  want  of  knowl- 
edge of  the  country. 

Fitzpatrick,  an  experienced  trader  and  trap- 
per, knew  the  evils  of  competition  in  the  same 
hunting  grounds,  and  had  proposed  that  the 
two  companies  should  divide  the  country,  so 
as  to  hunt  in  different  directions :  this  propo- 
sition being  rejected,  he  had  exerted  himself 
to  get  first  into  the  field.  His  exertions,  as 
has  already  been  shown,  were  effectual.  The 
early  arrival  of  Sublette,  with  supplies,  had 
enabled  the  various  brigades  of  the  Rocky 
Mounts*  '  Company  to  start  off  to  their  respec- 
tive  hunting    grounds.     Fitzpatrick    himself, 


S>eparture  of  "Rival  Companies 


103 


with  his  associate,  Bridger,  had  pushed  off 
with  a  strong  party  of  trappers,  for  a  prime 
beaver  country  to  the  north-northwest. 

This  had  put  Vanderburgh  upon  his  mettle. 
He  had  hastened  on  to  meet  Fontenelle.  Find- 
ing him  at  his  camp  in  Green  River  Valley,  he 
immediately  furnished  himself  with  the  sup- 
plies ;  put  himself  at  the  head  of  the  free  trap- 
pers and  Dela wares,  and  set  off  with  all  speed, 
determined  to  follow  hard  upon  the  heels  of 
Fitzpatrick  and  Bridger.  Of  the  adventures  of 
these  parties  among  the  mountains,  and  the 
disastrous  effects  of  their  competition,  we  shall 
have  occasion  to  treat  in  a  future  chapter. 

Fontenelle  having  now  delivered  his  supplies 
and  accomplished  his  errand,  struck  his  tent.s 
and  set  off  on  his  return  to  the  Yellowstone. 
Captain  Bonneville  and  his  band,  therefore, 
remained  alone  in  the  Green  River  Valley  ; 
and  their  situation  might  have  been  perilous, 
had  the  Blackfeet  band  still  lingered  in  the 
vicinity.  Those  marauders,  however,  had 
been  dismayed  at  finding  so  many  resolute  and 
well-appointed  parties  of  white  men  in  this 
neighborhood.  They  had,  therefore,  aban- 
doned this  part  of  the  country,  passing  over 
the  head-waters  of  the  Green  River,  and  bend- 
ing their  course  towards  the  Yellowstone. 
Misfortune  pursued  them.     Their  route  lay 


I04 


X0nncvnic*6  B^vcnture0 


'vmrni 


M' 


«•■! 


through  the  country  of  their  deadly  enemies, 
the  Crows.  In  the  Wind  River  Valley,  which 
lies  east  of  the  mountains,  they  were  encoun- 
tered by  a  powerful  war  party  of  that  tribe, 
and  completely  put  to  rout.  Forty  of  them 
were  killed,  many  of  their  women  and  children 
captured,  and  the  scattered  fugitives  hunted 
like  wild  beasts,  until  they  were  completely 
chased  out  of  the  Crow  country. 

On  the  22d  of  August  Captain  Bonneville 
broke  up  his  camp,  and  set  out  on  his  route  for 
Salmon  River.  His  baggage  was  arranged  in 
packs,  three  to  a  mule,  or  pack-horse ;  one  be- 
ing disposed  on  each  side  of  the  animal,  and 
one  on  the  top ;  the  three  forming  a  load  of 
from  one  hundred  and  eighty  to  two  hundred 
and  twenty  pounds.  This  is  the  trappers' 
style  of  loading  their  pack-horses  ;  his  men, 
however,  were  inexpert  at  adjusting  the  packs  ; 
which  were  prone  to  get  loose  and  slip  off;  so 
that  it  was  necessary  to  keep  a  rear-guard  to 
assist  in  reloading.  A  few  days'  experience; 
however,  brought  them  into  proper  training. 

Their  march  lay  up  the  valley  of  the  Seedb- 
ke-dee,  overlooked  to  the  right  by  the  lofty 
peaks  of  the  Wind  River  Mountains.  From 
bright  little  lakes  and  fountain-heads  of  this 
remarkable  bed  of  mountains,  poured  forth  the 
tributary  streams  of  the  Seeds-ke-dee.     Some 


came  ri 

tumblii 

clefts  a 

in  rapid 

to  thro 

transpa 

with  wl 

ing  abc 

beds  w( 

many  f 

quality  ( 

vails  for 

their  wa 

Issuin 

Captain  ] 

east,  acrl 

rocky  deJ 

and  hors 

ware  Ind 

His  name 

himself  o] 

the  grizz] 

Though  c 

had  no  he 

and  attacls 

a  rifle,  he 

in  full  fore 

tunity  ofp 

this  mount 


Ir- 


'Roclti?  fountain  Streamd 


lo? 


^e; 


came  rushing  down  gullies  and  ravines  ;  others 
tumbling  in  crystal  cascades  from  inaccessible 
clefts  and  rocks,  and  others  winding  their  way 
in  rapid  and  pellucid  currents  across  the  valley, 
to  throw  themselves  into  the  main  river.  So 
transparent  were  these  waters,  that  the  trout 
with  which  they  abounded  could  be  seen  glid- 
ing about  as  if  in  the  air ;  and  their  pebbly 
beds  were  distinctly  visible  at  the  depth  of 
many  feet.  This  beautiful  and  diaphanous 
quality  of  the  Rocky  Mountain  streams,  pre- 
vails for  a  long  time  after  they  have  mingled 
their  waters  and  swollen  into  important  rivers. 
Issuing  from  the  upper  part  of  the  valley. 
Captain  Bonneville  continued  to  the  east-north- 
east, across  rough  and  lofty  ridges,  and  deep 
rocky  defiles,  extremely  fatiguing  both  to  man 
and  horse.  Among  his  hunters  was  a  Dela- 
ware Indian  who  had  remained  faithful  to  him. 
His  name  was  Buckeye.  He  had  often  prided 
himself  on  his  skill  and  success  in  coping  with 
the  grizzly  bear,  that  terror  of  the  hunters. 
Though  crippled  in  the  left  arm,  he  declared  he 
had  no  hesitation  to  close  with  a  wounded  bear, 
and  attack  him  with  a  sword.  If  armed  with 
a  rifle,  he  was  willing  to  brave  the  animal  when 
in  full  force  and  fury.  He  had  twice  an  oppor- 
tunity of  proving  his  prowess,  in  the  course  of 
this  mountain  journey,  and  was  each  time  suc' 


i\ 


I? 


ii 


•         : 


io6 


Xonncviilc*6  BDventures 


cessful.  His  mode  was  to  seat  himself  upon 
the  ground,  with  his  rifle  cocked  and  resting 
on  his  lame  arm.  Thus  prepared,  he  would 
await  the  approach  of  the  bear  with  perfect 
coolness,  nor  pull  trigger  until  he  was  close  at 
hand.  In  each  instance,  he  laid  the  monster 
dead  upon  the  spot. 

A  march  of  three  or  four  days,  through  sav- 
age and  lonely  scenes,  brought  Captain  Bonne- 
ville to  the  fatal  defile  of  Jackson's  Hole,  where 
poor  More  and  Foy  had  been  surprised  and 
murdered  by  the  Blackfeet.  The  feelings  of 
the  captain  were  shocked  at  beholding  the 
bones  of  these  unfortunate  young  men  bleach- 
ing among  the  rocks ;  and  he  caused  them  to 
be  decently  interred. 

On  the  3d  of  September  he  arrived  on  the 
summit  of  a  mountain  which  commanded  a 
full  view  of  the  eventful  valley  of  Pierre's 
Hole  ;  whence  he  could  trace  the  windings  of 
its  stream  through  green  meadows  and  forests 
of  willow  and  cotton-wood,  and  have  a  pros- 
pec^,  between  distant  mountains,  of  the  lava 
plains  of  Snake  River,  dimly  spread  forth  like 
a  sleeping  ocean  below. 

After  enjoying  this  magnificent  prospect,  he 
descended  into  the  valley,  and  visited  the 
scenes  of  the  late  desperate  conflict.  There 
were  the  remains  of  the  rude  fortress  in  the 


swam 

with  1 

There 

dezvo 

Indiai 

guish( 

and  hi 

had  al 

demes 

pristin 

Tha 

battle 

toilsott 

tains. 

his  pai 

fering 

thirst. 

he  reac 

The 

toms  o: 

in,  but 

missing 

mornin 

custom, 

lose  his 

tuous 

folio  wir 

came  or 

depth 


"Tyr^t 


f)arOdbfp0  or  TIQlintcr  ZtavclUng 


V:     M 


107 


he 

the 

here 

the 


swamp,  shattered  by  rifle  shot,  and  strewed 
with  the  mingled  bones  of  savages  and  horses. 
There  was  the  late  populous  and  noisy  ren- 
dezvous, with  the  traces  of  trappers*  camps  and 
Indian  lodges ;  but  their  fires  were  extin- 
guished, the  motley  assemblage  of  trappers 
and  hunters,  white  traders  and  Indian  braves, 
had  all  dispersed  to  different  points  of  the  wil- 
derness, and  the  valley  had  relapsed  into  its 
pristine  solitude  and  silence. 

That  night  the  captain  encamped  upon  the 
battle  ground ;  the  next  day  he  resumed  his 
toilsome  peregrinations  through  the  moun- 
tains. For  upwards  of  two  weeks  he  continued 
his  painful  march ;  both  men  and  horses  suf- 
fering excessively  at  times  from  hunger  and 
thirst.  At  length,  on  the  19th  of  September, 
he  reached  the  upper  waters  of  Salmon  River. 

The  weather  was  cold,  and  there  were,  symp- 
toms of  an  impending  storm.  The  night  set 
in,  but  Buckeye,  the  Delaware  Indian,  was 
missing.  He  had  left  the  party  early  in  the 
morning,  to  hunt  by  himself,  according  to  his 
custom.  Fears  were  entertained  lest  he  should 
lose  his  way  and  become  bewildered  in  tempes- 
tuous weather.  These  fears  increased  on  the 
following  morning,  when  a  violent  snowstorm 
came  on,  which  soon  covered  the  earth  to  the 
depth  of  several  inches.     Captain   Bonneville 


'I 
! 


ic8 


Xonncv\l{c*6  Vib^entntce 


'.i^':M 


imniediately  encamped,  and  sent  out  scouts  in 
every  direction.  After  some  search  Buckeye 
was  discovered,  quietly  seated  at  a  consider- 
able distance  in  the  rear,  waiting  the  expected 
approach  of  the  party,  not  knowing  that  they 
had  passed,  the  snow  having  covered  their  trail. 

On  the  ensuing  morning  they  resumed  their 
march  at  an  early  hour,  but  had  not  proceeded 
far  when  the  hunters,  who  were  beating  up 
the  country  in  the  advance,  came  galloping 
back,  making  signals  to  encamp,  and  crying 
"  Indians  !  Indians  !  " 

Captain  Bonneville  immediately  struck  into 
a  skirt  of  wood  and-  prepared  for  action.  The 
savages  were  now  seen  trooping  over  the  hills 
in  great  numbers.  One  of  them  left  the  main 
body  and  came  forward  singly,  making  signals 
of  peace.  He  announced  them  as  a  band  of 
Nez  Percys*  or  Pierced-nosed  Indians,  friendly 
to  the  whites,  whereupon  an  invitation  was 
returned  by  Captain  Bonneville,  for  them  to 
come  and  encamp  with  him.  They  halted  for 
a  short  time  to  make  their  toilette,  an  operation 
as  important  with  an  Indian  warrior  as  with  a 

*  We  should  observe  that  this  tribe  is  universally 
called  by  its  French  name,  which  is  pronounced  by 
the  trappers,  Nepercy.  There  are  two  main  branches 
of  this  tribe,  the  upper  Nepercys  and  +he  lower  Ne- 
pciv^ys,  as  we  shall  show  hereafter. 


tici  perc^0  f  tiMand 


109 


in 


by 
les 


fashionable  beauty.  This  done,  they  arranged 
themselves  in  martial  style,  the  chiefs  leading 
the  van,  the  braves  following  in  a  long  line, 
painted  and  decorated,  and  topped  off  with 
fluttering  plumes.  In  this  way  they  advanced, 
shouting  and  singing,  firing  off  their  fusees, 
and  clashing  their  shields.  The  two  parties 
encamped  hard  by  each  other.  The  Nez  Per- 
ces  were  on  a  hunting  expedition,  but  had 
been  almost  famished  on  their  march.  They 
had  no  provisions  left  but  a  few  dried  salmon, 
yet  finding  the  white  men  equally  in  want, 
they  generously  offered  to  share  even  this 
meagre  pittance,  and  frequently  repeated  the 
offer,  with  an  earnestness  that  left  no  doubt 
of  their  sincerity.  Their  generosity  won  the 
heart  of  Captain  Bonneville,  and  produced  the 
most  cordial  good-will  on  the  part  of  his  men. 
For  two  days  that  the  parties  remained  in  com- 
pany, the  most  amicable  intercourse  prevailed, 
and  they  parted  the  best  of  friends.  Captain 
Bonneville  detached  a  few  men,  under  Mr. 
Cerr6,  an  able  leader,  to  accompany  the  Nez 
Percys  0:1  their  hunting  expedition,  and  to 
trade  with  them  for  meat  for  the  winter's  sup- 
ply. After  this,  he  proceeded  down  the  river 
about  five  miles  below  the  forks,  when  he  came 
to  a  halt  on  the  26th  of  September,  to  establish 
his  winter  quarters. 


Hi 


/ 


Cbapterff. 

Horses  Turned  Loose— Preparations  for  Winter  Quar- 
ters— Hung/y  Times — Nez  Percys,  their  Honesty, 
Piety,  Pacific  Habits,  Religious  Ceremonies— Cap- 
tain Bonneville's  Conversation  with  them — Their 
Love  of  Gambling. 

IT  was  gratifying  to  Captain  Bonneville, 
after  so  long  and  toilsome  a  course  of 
travel,  to  relieve  his  poor  jaded  horses  of 
the  burdens  under  which  they  were  almost 
ready  to  give  out,  and  to  behold  them  rolling 
upon  the  grass,  and  taking  a  long  repose  after 
all  their  sufferings.  Indeed,  so  exhausted 
were  they,  that  those  employed  under  the  sad- 
dle were  no  longer  capable  of  hunting  for  the 
daily  subsistence  of  the  camp. 

All  hands  now  set  to  work  to  prepare  a  winr 
ter  cantonment.  A  temporary  fortificadon  was 
thrown  up  for  the  protraction  of  the  party ;  a 
secure  and  comfortable  pen,  into  which  the 
horses  could  be  driven  at  night;  and  huts 
were  built  for  the  reception  of  the  merchandise. 

xzo 


This 
tributic 
remain 
propert 
brigade 
subsist 
the  suo^ 
Indee 
provide 
hood, 
of  the  I 
recently 
neighbo] 
though 
tinually 
round, 
to  keep  i 
there  wa 
occasions 
cravings 
roots,  or 
Rarely  c 
boast  of 
of  having 
this  way 
October, 
five  famil 
ure  recon 
situation, 


triv-m^mmr»mi!ivraj^^- 


Scarcity  ot  food 


III 


This  done,  Captain  Bonneville  made  a  dis- 
tribution of  his  forces  :  twenty  men  were  to 
remain  with  him  in  garrison  to  protect  the 
property ;  the  rest  were  organized  into  three 
brigades,  and  sent  oflf  in  different  directions,  to 
subsist  themselves  in  hunting  the  buffalo,  until 
the  snow  should  become  too  deep. 

Indeed,  it  would  have  been  impossible  to 
provide  for  the  whole  party  in  this  neighbor- 
hood. It  was  at  the  extreme  western  limit 
of  the  buffalo  range,  and  these  animals  had 
recently  been  completely  hunted  out  of  the 
neighborhood  by  the  Nez  Perces,  so  that,  al- 
though the  hunters  of  the  garrison  were  con- 
tinually on  the  alert,  ranging  the  country' 
round,  they  brought  in  scarce  game  sufficient 
to  keep  famine  from  the  door.  Now  and  then 
there  was  a  scanty  meal  of  fish  or  wild  fowl, 
occasionally  an  antelope ;  but  frequently  the 
cravings  of  hunger  had  to  be  appeased  with 
roots,  or  the  flesh  of  wolves  and  muskrats. 
Rarely  could  the  inmates  of  the  cantonment 
boast  of  having  made  a  full  meal,  and  never 
of  having  wherewithal  for  the  morrow.  In 
this  way  they  starved  along  until  the  8th  of 
October,  when  they  were  joined  by  a  party  of 
five  families  of  Nez  Percys,  who  in  some  meas- 
ure reconciled  them  to  the  hardships  of  their 
situatioxii  by  exhibiting  a  lot  still  more  desU- 


T 


112 


J3onneY»Ule'0  BOvcntures 


i.i  i 


tute.  A  more  forlorn  set  they  had  never  en- 
countered :  they  had  not  a  morsel  of  meat  or 
fish  ;  nor  anything  to  subsist  on,  excepting 
roots,  wild  rosebuds,  the  barks  of  certain  plants, 
and  other  vegetable  productions  ;  neither  had 
they  any  weapon  for  hunting  or  defense,  ex- 
cepting an  old  spear  :  yet  the  poor  fellows  made 
no  murmur  nor  complaint ;  but  seemed  accus- 
tomed to  their  hard  fare.  If  they  could  not 
teach  the  white  men  their  practical  stoicism, 
they  at  least  made  them  acquainted  with  the 
edible  properties  of  roots  and  wild  rosebuds, 
and  furnished  them  with  a  supply  from  their 
own  store.  The  necessities  of  the  camp  at 
length  became  so  urgent,  that  Captain  Bonne- 
ville determined  to  dispatch  a  party  to  the 
Horse  Prairie,  a  plain  to  the  north  of  his  can- 
tonment, to  procure  a  supply  of  provisions. 
When  the  mea  were  about  to  depart,  he  pro- 
posed to  the  Nez  Percys  that  they,  or  some  of 
them,  should  join  the  hunting  party.  To  his 
surprise,  they  promptly  declined.  He  inquired 
the  reason  for  their  refusal,  seeing  that  they 
were  in  nearly  as  starving  a  situation  as  his 
own  people.  They  replied  that  it  was  a  sacred 
day  with  them,  and  the  Great  Spirit  would  be 
angry  should  they  devote  it  to  hunting.  They 
offered,  however,  to  accompany  the  party  if 
it  would  delay  its  departure  until  the  following 


da>  ;  b 
would 
cecded. 
A  few 
t>  Capta 
hunt, 
guns  or 
What  dc 
among  t 
paratory 
religious 
Spirit  a  ; 
cess  ;  the 
their  wivi 
departed, 
spectators 
of  faith   £ 
benevolen 
tain  Bonn 
find  the  w: 
stained  b} 
man  natui 
which  I  hj 
affected  te 
least  to  ha 
bosoms  wit 
such  pure 
creatures  s 
comforts  o 

VOL.  1.— 8 


iMiril    gill 


Indian  praiscrd 


113 


da>  ;  but  this  the  pinching  clcmatids  of  hunger 
would  not  permit,  and  the  detachment  pro- 
ceeded. 

A  few  days  afterwards,  four  of  them  signified 
t)  Captain  Bonneville  that  they  were  about  to 
hunt.  ''What!"  exclaimed  he,  *' without 
guns  or  arrows  ;  and  with  only  one  old  spear  ? 
What  do  you  expect  to  kill?"  They  smiled 
among  themselves,  but  made  no  answer.  Pre- 
paratory to  the  chase,  they  performed  some 
religious  rites,  and  offered  up  to  the  Great 
Spirit  a  few  short  prayers  for  safety  and  sac- 
cess  ;  then,  having  received  the  blessings  of 
their  wives,  they  leapea  upon  their  horses  and 
departed,  leaving  the  whole  party  of  Christian 
spectators  amazed  and  rebuked  by  this  lesson 
of  faith  and  dependence  on  a  supreme  and 
benevolent  Being.  "Accustomed,"  adds  Cap- 
tain Bonneville,  '*  as  I  had  heretofore  been,  to 
find  the  wretched  Indian  revelling  -n  blood,  and 
stained  by  every  vice  which  can  degrade  hu- 
man nature,  I  could  scarcely  realize  the  scene 
which  I  had  witnessed.  Wonder  at  such  un- 
affected tenderness  and  piety,  where  it  was 
least  to  have  been  sought,  contended  in  all  our 
bosoms  with  shame  and  confusion,  at  receiving 
such  pure  and  wholesome  instructions  from 
creatures  so  far  below  us  in  all  the  arts  and 
comforts  of  life."     The  simple  prayers  of  the 

VOL.  I. — 8 


if 


114 


Xonncvii[c*&  BOPcnturee 


ill 


poor  Indians  were  not  unheard.  In  the  course 
of  four  or  five  days  they  returned,  laden  with 
meat.  Captain  Bonneville  was  curious  to 
know  how  they  had  attained  such  success  with 
such  scanty  means.  They  gave  him  to  under- 
stand that  they  had  chased  the  herds  of 
buffalo  at  full  speed,  until  they  tired  them 
down,  when  they  easily  dispatched  them  with 
the  spear,  and  made  use  of  the  same  weapon 
to  flay  the  carcasses.  To  carry  through  their 
lesson  to  their  Christian  friends,  the  poor 
savages  were  as  charitable  as  they  had  been 
pious,  and  generously  shared  with  them  the 
spoils  of  their  hunting ;  giving  them  food 
enough  to  last  for  several  days. 

A  further  and  more  intimate  intercourse  with 
this  tribe  gave  Captain  Bonneville  still  greater 
cause  to  admire  their  strong  devotional  feeling. 
**Simpl5'^to  call  these  people  religious,"  says 
he,  *' would  convey  but  a  faint  idea  of  the 
deep  hue  of  piety  and  devotion  which  pervades 
their  whole  conduct.  Their  honesty  is  immac- 
ulate, and  tlieir  purity  of  purpose,  and  their 
observance  of  the  rites  of  their  religion,  are 
most  uniform  and  remarkable.  They  are, 
certainly,  more  like  a  nation  of  saints  than  a 
horde  of  savages." 

In  fact,  the  anti-belligerent  policy  of  this 
tribe  may  have  sprung  from  the  doctrines  of 


Chris 
had 
faith 
who  1 
rude  < 
Romii 
monia 
their 
medle; 
bath, 
selves 
a  pole 
they  g. 
strongl 
Shakin 
much  I 
the  ini 
chiefs, 
their  d 
good  d< 
"Th^ 
archal,  * 
union 
there  is 
which  a 

The 
been  sti 
looked- 
wilderue 


this 


'Relidioud  Ccrcmontal 


x»5 


oi 


Christian  charity,  for  it  would  appear  thatthty 
had  imbibed  some  notions  of  the  Christian 
faith  from  CathoHc  missionaries  and  traders 
who  had  been  among  them.  They  even  had  a 
rude  calendar  of  the  fasts  and  festivals  of  the 
Romish  Church,  and  some  traces  of  its  cere- 
monials. These  have  become  blended  with 
their  own  wild  rites,  and  present  a  strange 
medley,  civilized  and  barbarous.  On  the  Sab- 
bath, men,  women,  and  children  array  them- 
selves in  their  best  style,  and  assemble  round 
a  pole  erected  at  the  head  of  the  camp.  Here 
they  go  through  a  wild  fantastic  ceremonial  ; 
strongly  resembling  the  religious  dance  of  the 
Shaking  Quakers  ;  but  from  its  enthusiasm, 
much  more  striking  and  impressive.  During 
the  intervals  of  the  ceremony  the  principal 
chiefs,  who  officiate  as  priests,  instruct  them  in 
their  duties,  aiid  exhort  them  to  virtue  and 
good  deeds. 

"There  is  something  antique  and  patri- 
archal," observes  Captain  Bonneville,  "  in  this 
union  of  the  offices  of  leader  and  priest ;  as 
there  is  in  many  of  their  customs  and  manners, 
which  are  all  strongly  imbued  with  religion." 

The  worthy  captain,  indeed,  appears  to  have 
been  strongh^  interested  by  this  gleam  of  un- 
looked-for light  amidst  the  darkness  of  the 
wilderness.     He  exerted   himself,  during  his 


'  ii  *    ^j 


•I' 


Hi 


Il6 


JSonncfille'd  'Bbvcntntes 


;  J , ;  I 


sojourn  among  this  simple  and  well-disposed 
people,  to  inculcate,  as  far  as  he  was  able,  the 
gentle  and  humanizing  precepts  of  the  Chris- 
tian faith,  and  to  make  them  acquainted  with 
the  leading  points  of  its  history  :  and  it  speaks 
highly  foi  the  purity  and  benignity  of  his 
heart,  that  he  derived  unmixed  happiness  from 
the  task. 

"Many  a  time,"  says  he,  "was  my  little 
lodge  thronged,  or  rather  piled  with  hearers, 
for  they  lay  on  the  ground,  one  leaning  over 
the  other,  until  there  was  no  further  room,  all 
listening  with  greedy  ears  to  the  wonders 
which  the  Great  Spirit  had  revealed  to  the 
white  man.  No  other  subject  gave  them  half 
the  satisfaction,  or  commanded  half  the  atten- 
tion ;  and  but  few  scenes  in  my  life  remain  so 
freshly  on  my  memory,  or  are  so  pleasurably 
recalled  to  my  contemplation,  as  these  hours  of 
intercourse  with  a  distant  and  benighted  race 
in  the  midst  of  the  desert." 

The  only  excesses  indulged  in  by  this  tem- 
perate and  exemplary  people,  appear  to  be 
gambling  and  horse-racing.  In  these  they 
engage  with  an  eagerness  that  amounts  to 
infatuation.  Knots  of  gamblers  wJU  assemble 
before  one  of  their  lodge  fires,  early  in  the 
evening,  and  remain  absorbed  in  the  chances 
and  changes  of  the  game  until  long  after  dawn 


of  tlu 
they  w 
in  amo 
greatei 
gambli 
poorest 


I—-  ■  ■*•  ■-"--■- 


(3amblind  and  f)or0C«'Kacin0 


i»7 


of  the  following  day.  As  night  advances, 
they  wax  warmer  and  warmer.  Bets  increase 
in  amount,  one  loss  only  serves  to  lead  to  a 
greater,  until  in  the  course  of  a  single  night's 
gambling,  the  richest  chief  may  become  the 
poorest  varlet  in  the  camp. 


•:iir 


I' t 


I 


Ml    i 


I  i 


|!  ! 


Cbaptet  f  ♦ 

Blackfeet  in  the  Horse  Prairie— Search  after  the  Hun- 
ters— Difficulties  and  Dangers — A  Card  Party  in  the 
Wilderness— The  Card  Party  Interrupted— "Old 
Sledge,"  a  Losing  Game— Visitors  to  the  Camp- 
Iroquois  Hunters — Hanging-Eared  Indians. 

ON  the  1 2th  of  October,  two  young  Indians 
of  the  Nez  Perc6  tribe  arrived  at  Cap- 
tain Bonneville's  encampment.  They 
were  on  their  way  homeward,  but  had  been 
obliged  to  swerve  from  their  ordinar>'  route 
through  the  mountains,  by  deep  snows.  Their 
new  route  took  them  through  the  Horse  Prai- 
rie. In  traversing  it,  they  had  been  attracted 
by  the  distant  smoke  of  a  camp-fire,  and,  on 
stealing  near  to  reconnoitre,  had  discovered  a 
war  party  of  Blackfeet.  They  had  several 
horses  with  them ;  and,  as  they  generally  go 
on  foot  on  warlike  excursions,  it  was  concluded 
that  these  horses  had  been  captured  in  the 
course  of  their  maraudings. 

xi8 


Thisi 

mind  of 

hunters 

hood ;  a 

the  circi 

clared  th 

had  been 

Anxio 

tain  Bon: 

up  the  CO 

in  vain  ; 

but  th(ry 

where  .; 

time,  tae; 

mouthful 

buffalo  g 

After  ma 

they  fired, 

to  flight, 

dale,  with 

starving  i 

him  to  tl 

him,  pluu] 

layed  his  i 

A  fire  was 

when  the 

and  again, 

to  sleep  be: 

lowing  mo] 


■M 


Searcb  tor  tbc  1>untcr0 


119 


This  intelligence  awakened  solicitude  on  the 
mind  of  Captain  Bonneville,  for  the  party  of 
hunters  whom  he  had  sent  to  that  neighbor- 
hood ;  and  the  Nez  Percys,  when  informed  of 
the  circumstance,  shook  their  heads,  and  de- 
clared the  belief  that  the  horses  they  had  seen 
had  been  stolen  from  that  very  party. 

Anxious  for  information  on  the  subject,  Cap- 
tain Bonneville  dispatched  two  hunters  to  beat 
up  the  country  in  that  direction.  They  searched 
in  vain  ;  not  a  trace  of  the  men  could  be  found  ; 
but  tht-y  j^ot  into  a  region  destitute  of  game, 
where  i^w  were  wellnigh  famished.  At  one 
time,  tiiey  were  three  entire  days  without  a 
mouthful  of  food ;  at  length  they  beheld  a 
buffalo  grazing  at  the  foot  of  a  mountain. 
After  manoeuvring  so  as  to  get  within  shot, 
they  fired,  but  merely  wounded  him.  He  took 
to  flight,  and  they  followed  him  over  hill  and 
dale,  with  the  eagerness  and  perseverance  of 
starving  men.  A  more  lucky  shot  brought 
him  to  the  ground.  Stanfield  sprang  upon 
him,  plunged  his  knife  into  his  throat,  and  al- 
layed his  raging  hunger  by  drinking  his  blood. 
A  fire  was  instantly  kindled  beside  the  carcass, 
when  the  two  hunters  cooked,  and  ate  again 
and  again,  until,  perfectly  gorged,  they  sank 
to  sleep  before  their  hunting  fire.  On  the  fol- 
I    lowing  morning  they  rose  earl> ,  made  another 


! 


i 


■i 


i- 


-,  r ' 


I 


1 20 


JSoniieville'^  Bd\^eiiture0 


hearty  meal,  then  loading  themselves  with  buf- 
falo meat,  set  out  on  their  return  to  the  camp, 
to  report  the  fruitlessness  of  their  mission. 

/  .  length,  after  six  weeks*  absence,  the  hun- 
ters made  their  appearance,  and  were  received 
with  joy,  proportioned  to  the  anxiety  that  had 
been  felt  on  their  account.  They  had  hunted 
with  success  on  the  prairie,  but,  while  busy  dry- 
ing buflfalo  meat,  were  joined  by  a  few  panic- 
stricken  Flatheads,  who  informed  them  that  a 
powerful  band  of  Blackfeet  were  at  hand.  The 
hunters  immediately  abandoned  the  dangerous 
hunting-ground,  and  accompanied  the  Flat- 
heads  to  their  village.  Here  they  found  Mr. 
Cerrd,  and  the  detachment  of  hunters  sent 
with  him  to  accompany  the  hunting  party  of 
the  Nez  Percys. 

After  remaining  some  time  at  the  village, 
until  they  supposed  the  Blackfeet  to  have  left 
the  neighborhood,  they  set  oflf,  with  some  of 
Mr.  Cerr^'s  men,  ifor  the  cantonment  of  Salmon 
River,  where  they  arrived  without  accident. 
They  informed  Captain  Bonneville,  however, 
that,  not  far  from  his  quarters,  they  had  found 
a  wallet  of  fresh  meat  and  a  cord,  which  they 
supposed  had  been  left  by  some  prowling 
Blackfeet.  A  few  clays  afterwards,  Mr.  Cerr6, 
with  the  remainder  of  his  men,  likewise  ar- 
rived at  the  cantonment. 


Mr. 

gone, 

the  coi 

likewij 

pervad 

nieuts, 

the  car 

a  little 

these  I 

lows,  t( 

of  care 

popular 

as  whis 

the  citi€ 

were  su 

arms,   a 

their  fee 

beheld  i 

ready  ir 

stolen  Uj 

were  spe] 

The  lud 

backed,  £ 

a  galling 

mules,    h 

burly,  ar 

up  their 

in  spite  ( 

ihe  rest  ] 


mmmmmmmmmamm 


md 
ley 

r6. 
ar- 


B  CarD  partis  in  tbe  MilDerncdd        121 

Mr.  Walker,  one  of  the  subleaders,  who  had 
gone,  with  a  band  of  twenty  hunters,  to  range 
the  country  just  beyond  the  Horse  Prairie,  had. 
likewise,  his  share  of  adventures  with  the  all- 
pervading  Blackfeet.  At  one  of  his  encamp- 
ments, the  guard  stationed  to  keep  watch  round 
the  camp  grew  weary  of  their  duty,  and  feeling 
a  little  too  secure,  and  too  much  at  home  on 
these  prairies,  retired  to  a  small  grove  of  wil- 
lows, to  amuse  themselves  with  a  social  game 
of  cards,  called  **  old  sledge,"  which  is  as 
popular  among  the  trampers  of  the  prairies, 
as  whist  or  ecart6  among  the  polite  circles  of 
the  cities.  From  the  midst  of  their  sport,  they 
were  suddenly  roused  by  a  discharge  of  fire- 
arms, and  a  shrill  war-whoop.  Starting  on 
their  feet,  and  snatching  up  their  riflts,  they 
beheld  in  dismay  their  horses  and  mujes  al- 
ready in  possession  of  the  eneriy,  who  had 
stolen  upon  the  camp  unperceived,  while  they 
were  spell-bound  by  the  magic  of  **  old  sledge." 
The  Indians  sprang  upon  the  animals  bare- 
backed, ar  d  endeavored  to  urge  them  off  under 
a  galling  fire,  that  did  some  execution.  The 
mules,  however,  confounded  by  the  hurly- 
burly,  and  disliking  their  new  riders,  kicked 
up  their  heels  and  dismounted  half  of  them, 
in  spite  of  their  horsemanship.  This  threw 
ihe  rest  into  confusion  ;    they  endeavored  to 


i 


■ 


122 


JBonnei?fUe'0  'B^vcntutce 


?'i 


n 


protect  their  unhorsed  comrades  from  the  furi- 
ous assaults  of  the  whites  ;  but,  after  a  scene 
of  "confusion  worse  confounded,"  horses  and 
mules  v>  e  abandoned,  and  the  Indians  betook 
themse; .  ea  to  the  bushes.  Here  they  quickly- 
scratched  holes  in  the  earth  about  two  feet 
deep,  in  which  they  prostrated  themselves,  and 
while  thus  screened  from  the  shots  of  the  white 
men,  were  enabled  to  make  such  use  of  their 
bows  and  arrows  and  fusees  as  to  repulse  their 
assailants,  and  to  effect  their  retreat.  This  ad- 
venture threw  a  temporary  stigma  upon  the 
game  of  *  *  old  sledge.  *  * 

In  the  course  of  the  autumn,  four  Iroquois 
hunters,  driven  by  the  snow  from  their  hunt- 
ing grounds,  made  their  appearance  at  the 
cantonment.  They  were  kindlj'-  welcomed, 
and  during  their  sojourn  made  themselves 
useful  in  a  variety  of  ways,  being  excellent 
trappers  and  first-rate  woodsmen.  They  were 
of  the  remnants  of  a  party  of  Iroquois  hun- 
ters, that  came  from  Canada  into  these  moun- 
tain regions  many  years  previously,  in  the 
employ  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company.  They 
were  led  by  a  brave  chieftain,  named  Pierre, 
who  fell  by  the  hands  of  the  Blackfeet,  and 
gave  his  name  to  the  fated  valley  of  Pierre's 
Hole.  This  branch  of  the  Iroquois  tribe  has 
ever  since  remained  among  these  mountains. 


at  morti 

lost  mai 

with  th 

in  with 

of  his  g 

and  ha^ 

3f  the  cc 

Amon 

quarters 

of  Pendi 

chief.     1 

blance,  ii 

Percys. 

lodges,  a 

numbers 

mer,  and 

the  head- 

of  the  Snj 

of  Salmo] 

upon  the 

upon  root 

river  the  ] 

lished  a  ti 

and  the  I 

change  foi 

This  tril 

and  peculi 

religion  is 

that  of  mo 


[e 

V 


tt)f0it  ot  f)en&0  OxcillCB 


123 


at  mortal  enmity  v»^ith  the  Blackfeet,  and  have 
lost  many  of  their  prime  hunters  in  their  feuds 
with  that  ferocious  race.  Some  of  them  fell 
in  with  General  Ashley,  in  the  course  of  one 
of  his  gallant  excursions  into  the  wilderness, 
and  have  continued  ever  since  in  the  employ 
Df  the  company. 

Among  the  motley  visitors  to  the  winter 
quarters  of  Captain  Bonneville,  was  a  party 
of  Pends  Oreilles  (or  Hanging-Ears)  and  their 
chief.  These  Indians  have  a  strong  resem- 
blance, in  character  and  customt  to  the  Nez 
Percys.  They  amount  to  about  three  hundred 
lodges,  and  are  well  armed,  and  possess  great 
numbers  of  horses.  During  the  spring,  sum- 
mer, and  autumn  they  hunt  the  buffalo  alwut 
the  head-waters  of  the  Missouri,  Henry's  Fork 
of  the  Snake  River,  and  the  northern  branches 
of  Salmon  River.  Their  winter  quarters  are 
upon  the  Racine  Am^re,  where  they  subsist 
upon  roots  and  dried  buffalo  meat.  Upon  this 
river  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company  have  estab- 
lished a  trading  post,  where  the  Pends  Oreilles 
and  the  Flatheads  bring  their  peltries  to  ex- 
change for  arms,  clothing,  and  trinkets. 

This  tribe,  like  the  Nez  Percys,  evince  strong 
and  peculiar  feelings  of  natural  piety.  Their 
religion  is  not  a  mere  superstitious  fear,  like 
that  of  most  savages  ;  they  evince  abstract  no- 


■II 


; 


1 '  'i 


I 


I 


M 


h\ 


V 

H 


ti 


ii 


'I 


; 


1 


I;; 


III 
tli: 


■  l. 


•m^ 


124 


J8onnevUle'0  Bdventures 


tions  of  morality,  a  deep  reverence  for  an  over- 
ruling Spirit,  and  a  respect  for  the  rights  of 
their  fellow-men.  In  one  respect,  their  religion 
partakes  of  the  pacific  doctrines  of  the  Quak- 
ers. They  hold  that  the  Great  Spirit  is  dis- 
pleased with  ail  nations  who  wantonly  engage 
in  war ;  they  abstain,  therefore,  from  all  ag- 
gressive hostilities.  But  though  thus  unof- 
fending in  their  policy,  they  are  called  upon 
continually  to  wage  defensive  warfare,  espe- 
cially with  the  Blackfeet ;  with  whom,  in  the 
course  of  their  hunting  expeditions,  they  come 
in  frequent  collision,  and  have  desperate  bat- 
tles. Their  conduct  as  warriors  is  without 
fear  or  reproach,  and  they  can  never  be  driven 
to  abandon  their  hunting  grounds. 

Like  most  savages,  they  are  firm  believers 
in  dreams,  and  in  the  power  and  efficacy  of 
charms  and  amulets,  or  medicines,  as  they 
term  them.  Some  of  their  braves,  also,  who 
have  had  numerous  hair-breadth  'scapes,  like 
the  old  Nez  Perc^  chief  in  the  battle  of  Pierre's 
Hole,  are  believed  to  wear  a  charmed  life,  and 
to  be  bullet-proof.  Of  these  gifted  beings  mar- 
vellous anecdotes  are  related,  which  are  most 
potently  believed  by  their  fellow-savages,  and 
sometimes  almost  credited  by  the  white  hunters. 


Rival  Ti 
Game- 
)  Camp 
A  Fiei 
and  Br 
the  B; 
Young 

W 

after  the 

the  Roci 

panics,  w 

to  the  nc 

Fitzpai 

pany,  as 

ceived  tl 

hoped  to 

ground. 

the  two  1 

pany,  by 


*nll 


Cbaptet  n* 

Rival  Trapping  Parties — Manceuvrlug — A  Desperate 
Game — ^Vanderburgh  and  the  Blackfeet — Deserted 
Camp  Fires— A  Dark  Defile — An  Indian  Ambush — 
A  Fierce  Mel6e — Fatal  Consequences — Fitzpatrick 
and  Bridger— Trappers*  Precautions — Meeting  with 
the  Blackfeet — More  Fighting — Anecdote  of  a 
Young  Mexican  and  an  Indian  Girl. 

WHILE  Captain  Bonneville  i.  id  his  men 
are  sojourning  among  the  Nez  Per- 
cys, on  Salmon  River,  we  will  inquire 
after  the  fortunes  of  those  doughty  rivals  of 
the  Rocky  Mountain  and  American  Fur  Com- 
panies, who  started  off  for  the  trapping  grounds 
to  the  north-northwest. 

Fitzpatrick  and  Bridger,  of  the  former  com- 
pany, as  we  have  already  shown,  having  ••e- 
ceived  their  supplies,  had  taken  the  lead,  and 
hoped  to  have  the  first  sweep  of  the  hunting 
ground.  Vanderburgh  and  Dripps,  however, 
the  two  resident  partners  of  the  opposite  com- 
pany, by  extraordinary  exertions,   were    en- 

"5 


i  ■ 

n 

!i 
■  I 

;   1 
1   1 

t 
i 


>J 


\l 


SI 


v^ 


i! 


'Ml  I 

m  f. 
ill  *" 


I 

■  I 
I , 


If6 


Xonncviiit'B  Vibvcntntee 


abled  soon  to  pui:  themselves  upon  their  traces, 
and  pressed  forward  with  such  speed  as  to 
overtake  them  just  as  they  had  reached  the 
heart  of  the  beaver  country.  In  fact,  be- 
ing ignorant  of  the  best  trapping  grounds,  it 
was  their  object  to  follow  on  and  profit  by  the 
superior  knowledge  of  the  other  party. 

Nothing  could  equal  the  chagrin  of  Fitz- 
patrick  and  Bridger,  at  being  dogged  by  their 
inexperienced  rivals ;  especially  after  their 
offer  to  divide  the  country  with  them.  They 
tried  in  every  way  to  blind  and  baffle  them, 
to  steal  a  march  upon  them,  or  lead  them  on 
a  wrorg  scent ;  but  all  in  vain.  Vanderburgh 
made  up,  by  activity  and  intelligence,  for  his 
ignorance  of  the  country ;  was  always  wary, 
always  on  the  alert ;  discovered  every  move- 
ment of  his  rivals,  however  secret,  and  was 
not  to  be  eluded  or  misled. 

Fitzpatrick  and  his  colleague  now  lost  all 
patience ;  since  the  others  persisted  in  follow- 
ing them,  they  determined  to  give  them  an 
unprofitable  chase,  and  to  sacrifice  the  hunting 
season,  rather  than  share  the  products  with 
their  rivals.  They  accordingly  took  up  their 
line  of  march  down  the  course  of  the  Missouri, 
keeping  the  main  Blackfo<Dt  trail,  and  tramping 
doggedly  forward,  without  stopping  to  set  a 
single  trap.    The  others  beat  the  hoof  after 


them 

percei' 

and  g( 

the  tri 

bethoi] 

time,  fi 

It  was 

trydifl 

went 

about 

latter,  i 

very  he 

to  have 

his  scot 

the  trac 

were  tl 

roundec 

It  was  e 

frighten 

retreate* 

The  sec 

told  Va 

made  li^ 

with  hii 

self.     H 

had  repr 

buffaloes 

smouldei 

of  smok 


:  \Wr[': 


S)e0ertcD  Camp  fired 


12: 


them  for  some  time,  but  by  degrees  began  to 
perceive  that  they  were  on  a  wild-goose  chase, 
and  getting  into  a  country  perfectly  barren  to 
the  trapper.  They  now  came  to  a  halt,  and 
bethought  themselves  how  to  make  up  for  lost 
time,  and  improve  the  remainder  of  the  season. 
It  was  thought  best  to  divide  their  forces  and 
try  different  trapping  grounds.  While  Dripps 
went  in  one  direction,  Vanderburgh,  with 
about  fifty  men,  proceeded  in  another.  The 
latter,  in  his  headlong  march,  had  got  into  the 
very  heart  of  the  Blackfoot  country,  yet  seems 
to  have  been  unconscious  of  his  danger.  As 
his  scouts  were  out  one  day,  they  came  upon 
the  traces  of  a  recent  band  of  savages.  There 
were  the  deserted  fires  still  smoking,  sur- 
rounded by  the  carcasses  of  buffaloes  just  killed. 
It  was  evident  a  party  of  Blackfeet  had  been 
frightened  from  their  hunting  camp,  and  had 
retreated,  probably  to  seek  reinforcements. 
The  scouts  hastened  back  to  the  camp,  and 
told  Vanderburgh  what  they  had  seen.  He 
made  light  of  the  alarm,  and,  taking  nine  men 
with  him,  galloped  off  to  reconnoitre  for  him- 
self. He  found  the  deserted  camp  just  as  they 
had  represented  it ;  there  lay  the  carcasses  of 
buffaloes,  partly  dismembered ;  there  were  the 
smouldering  fires,  still  sending  up  their  wreaths 
of  smoke ;   everything  bore  traces  of  recent 


> 


•ill 


i 


"U 


■k  i 


i 


1 :  1^ 


;;l 


f  II 


It- 


r.  i 

1    M 


Ifliiii 


Tiii'iii 


mil 

m 


;:  ;  ■  ut 

',■■'01 


■:ff :! 


138 


J8onnevUk'0  BDventurea 


and  hasty  retreat ;  and  gave  reason  to  lielieve 
that  the  savages  were  still  lurking  in  the 
neighborhood.  With  heedless  daring,  Vander- 
burgh put  himself  upon  their  trail,  to  trace 
them  to  their  place  of  concealment.  It  led  him 
over  prairies,  and  through  skirts  of  woodland, 
until  it  entered  a  dark  and  dangerous  ravine. 
Vanderburgh  pushed  in,  without  hesitation, 
followed  by  his  little  band.  They  soon  found 
themselves  in  a  gloomy  dell,  between  steep 
banks  overhung  with  trees  ;  where  the  pro- 
found silence  was  only  broken  by  the  tramp 
of  their  own  horses. 

Suddenly  the  horrid  war-whoop  burst  on 
their  ears,  mingled  with  the  sharp  report  of 
rifles,  and  a  legion  of  savages  sprang  from 
their  concealments,  yelling,* and  shaking  their 
buffalo  r:bes  to  frighten  the  horses.  Vander- 
burgh's horse  fell,  mortally  wounded  by  the 
first  discharge.  In  his  fall,  he  pinned  his  rider 
to  the  ground  ;  who  called  in  vain  upon  his 
men  to  assist  in  extricating  him.  One  w^as 
shot  down  and  scalped  a  few  paces  distant ; 
most  of  the  others  were  severely  wounded,  and 
sought  their  safety  in  flight.  The  savages  ap- 
proached to  dispatch  the  unfortunate  leader, 
as  he  lay  struggling  beneath  his  horse..  He 
had  still  his  rifle  in  his  hand,  and  his  pistols 
in  his  belt.     The  first  savage  that  advanced 


m 


T, 


id 


fntc  of  Aajor  Van&erbur0b 


139 


received  the  contents  of  the  rifle  in  his  breast, 
and  fell  dead  upon  the  spot ;  but  before  Van- 
derburgh could  tlraw  a  pistol,  a  blow  from  a 
tomahawk  laid  him  prostrate,  and  he  was  dis- 
patched by  repeated  wounds. 

Such  was  the  fate  of  Major  Henry  Vander- 
burgh, one  of  the  best  and  worthiest  leaders 
of  the  American  Fur  Company  ;  whu,  by  his 
manly  bearing  and  dauntless  courage,  is  said 
to  have  made  himself  universally  j,x)pul  r 
among  the  bold-hearted  rovers  of  the  wilder- 
ness. 

Those  of  the  little  band  who  escaped  flee  in 
consternation  to  the  camp,  and  spread  direful 
reports  of  the  force  and  ferocity  of  the  enemy. 
The  party,  being  without  a  head,  were  in  com- 
plete confusion  and  dismay,  and  made  a  pre- 
cipitate retreat,  without  attempting  to  recover 
the  remains  of  their  butchered  leader.  They 
made  no  halt  until  they  reached  the  encamp- 
ment of  the  Pends  Oreilles,  or  Ha.  >?jng-Ears, 
where  they  ofifered  a  reward  for  the  recovery 
of  the  body,  but  without  success ;  it  never 
could  be  found. 

In  the  meantime  Fitzpatnck  and  Bridger,  of 
the  Rocky  Mountain  Company,  fared  but  little 
better  than  their  rivals.  In  their  eagerness  to 
mislead  them,  they  had  betrayed  themselves 
i»'.to  danger,  and  ^^^^  into  a  region  infested  with 


Vt)U  I.- 


M 


li 


1 1 


1 1 


\.  I 


W.  ■ 

f 

\ 


130 


JSonncvtUc'd  BD'vcnturcd 


the  Blackfeet.  They  soon  found  that  foes  were 
on  the  watch  for  them  ;  but  they  were  experi- 
enced in  Indian  warfare,  and  not  to  be  sur- 
prised at  night,  nor  drawn  into  an  ambush  in 
the  daytime.  As  the  evening  advanced,  the 
horses  were  all  brought  in  and  picketed,  and  a 
guard  was  stationed  round  the  camp.  At  the 
earliest  streak  of  day  one  of  the  leaders  would 
mount  his  horse,  and  gallop  oflf  full  speed  for 
about  half  a  mile  ;  then  look  round  for  Indian 
trails,  to  ascertain  whether  there  had  been  any 
lurkers  round  the  camp  ;  returning  slowly,  he 
would  reconnoitre  every  ravine  and  thicket 
where  there  might  be  an  ambush.  This  done,  he 
would  gallop  oflf  in  an  opposite  direction  and 
repeat  the  same  scrutiny.  Finding  all  things 
safe,  the  horses  would  be  turned  loose  to  graze, 
but  always  under  the  eye  of  a  guard. 

A  caution  equally  vigilant  was  observed  in 
the  march,  on  approaching  any  defile  or  place 
where  an  enemy  might  He  in  wait ;  and  scouts 
were  always  kept  in  the  advance,  or  along  the 
ridges  and  rising  grounds  on  the  flanks. 

At  length,  one  day,  a  large  band  of  Black- 
feet  appeared  in  the  open  field,  but  in  the 
vicinity  of  rocks  and  cliflfs.  They  kept  at  a 
wary  distance,  but  made  friendly  signs.  The 
trappers  replied  in  the  same  way,  but  likewise 
kept  aloof.     A  small  party  of  Indians  now  ad- 


vanced 

met  by 

they  fc 

bands, 

hand  t 

mony. 

place  a 

trappei 

spiritec 

in  the  < 

a  beaut 

by  whc 

her  his 

had  foil 

most  di 

Amoi 

with  th 

brother 

rushed 

brother' 

to  his  1 

little  CO 

the  savj 

Whih 

left  the 

towards 

resting  j 

chief  of 

him.     F 


Xoretto  atiD  f)fd  f  tiMan  Wiitc 


131 


V 


vanced,  bearing  the  pipe  of  peace  ;  they  were 
met  by  an  equal  number  of  white  men,  and 
they  formed  a  group,  midway  between  the  two 
bands,  where  the  pipe  was  circulated  from 
hand  to  hand,  and  smoked  with  all  due  cere- 
mony. An  instance  of  natural  affection  took 
place  at  this  pacific  meeting.  Among  the  free 
trappers  in  the  Rocky  Mountain  band,  was  a 
spirited  young  Mexican,  named  Loretto  ;  who, 
in  the  course  of  his  wanderings,  had  ransomed 
a  beautiful  Blackfoot  girl  from  a  band  of  Crows 
by  whom  she  had  been  captured.  He  made 
her  his  wife,  after  the  Indian  style,  and  she 
had  followed  his  fortunes  ever  since,  with  the 
most  devoted  affection. 

Among  the  Blackfeet  warriors  who  advanced 
with  the  calumet  of  peace,  she  recognized  a 
brother.  leaving  her  infant  with  Loretto,  si:  e 
rushed  forward  and  threw  herself  upon  her 
brother's  neck  ;  who  clasped  his  long-lost  sister 
to  his  heart,  with  a  warmth  of  affection  but 
little  compatible  with  the  reputed  stoicism  of 
the  savage. 

While  this  scene  was  taking  place,  Bridger 
left  the  main  body  of  trappers,  and  rode  slowly 
towards  the  group  of  smokers,  with  his  rifle 
resting  across  the  pommel  of  his  saddle.  The 
chief  of  the  Blackfeet  stepped  forward  to  meet 
him.     From  some  unfortunate  feeling  of  dis- 


i    >i 


?  I 


f  ^ 


t  If'  3 
•'I  s 

Is  * 
'»  » 

It 

■ill 


:^^if 


hi 
'I 

(A  ,i 

•  VI ' 


mi 


!'■ 


.'J  :j 


f'j 


^|1 


i32 


JSoiincviUc'0  BDventiired 


trust,  Bridget  cocked  his  rifle  just  as  the  chief 
was  extending  his  hand  in  friendship.  Tb*: 
quick  ear  of  the  savage  caught  the  click  of  the 
lock ;  in  a  twinkling,  he  grasped  the  barrel, 
forcing  the  muzzle  downward,  and  the  contents 
were  discharged  into  the  earth  at  his  feet. 
His  next  movement  was  to  wrest  the  weapon 
from  the  hand  of  Bridger,  and  fell  him  with  it 
to  the  earth.  He  might  have  found  this  no 
easy  task,  had  not  the  unfortunate  leader  re- 
ceived two  arrows  in  his  back  during  the 
struggle. 

The  chief  now  sprang  into  the  vacant  saddle 
and  galloped  oflf  to  his  band.  A  wild  hurry- 
skurry  scene  ensued ;  each  party  took  the 
banks,  the  rocks,  and  trees,  to  gain  favorable 
positions,  and  an  irregular  firing  was  kept  up 
on  either  side,  without  much  effect.  The 
Indian  girl  had  been  hurried  off  by  her  people, 
at  the  outbreak  of  the  affray.  She  would  have 
returned,  through  the  dangers  of  the  fight,  to 
her  husband  and  her  child,  but  was  prevented 
by  her  brother.  The  young  Mexican  saw  her 
struggles  and  her  agony,  and  heard  her  pier- 
cing cries.  With  a  generous  impulse,  he 
caught  up  the  child  in  his  arms,  rushed  for- 
ward, regardless  of  Indian  shaft  or  rifle,  and 
placed  it  in  safety  upon  her  bosom.  Even  the 
savage  heart  of  the  Blackfoot  chief  was  reached 


by  thij 

madm 

in  pea< 

urged 

brothe 

chief  g 

to  his  t 

lyorettc 

implore 

endang 

tance  tl 

The 

skirmis 

savages 

hostiliti 

both  in 

Hole,  th 

the  part 

the  Indi 

amity. 

stances  1 

sons,   dc 

savage  c 

friendshi 

way  ust 

the  pipe 

sacred  fr 

of  this  c 

on  our  pj 


i  i 


Xorctto  auD  1)i0  f  nOian  Wire 


133 


by  this  noble  deed.  He  pronounced  L,oretto  a 
madman  for  his  temerity,  but  bade  him  depart 
in  peace.  The  young  Mexican  hesitated  :  he 
urged  to  have  his  wife  restored  to  him,  but  her 
brother  interfered,  and  the  countenance  of  the 
chief  grew  dark.  The  girl,  he  said,  belonged 
to  his  tribe — she  must  remain  with  her  people. 
L,oretto  would  still  have  lingered,  but  his  wife 
implored  him  to  depart,  lest  his  life  should  be 
endangered.  It  was  with  the  greatest  reluc- 
tance that  he  returned  to  his  companions. 

The  approach  of  night  put  an  end  to  the 
skirmishing  fire  of  the  adverse  parties,  the 
savages  drew  off  without  renewing  their 
hostilities.  We  cannot  but  remark,  that 
both  in  this  affair  and  in  that  of  Pierre's 
Hole,  the  affray  commenced  by  a  hostile  act  on 
the  part  of  white  men,  at  the  moment  when 
the  Indian  warrior  was  extending  the  hand  of 
amity.  In  neither  instance,  as  far  as  circum- 
stances have  been  stated  to  us  by  different  per- 
sons, do  we  see  any  reason  to  suspect  the 
savage  chiefs  of  perfidy  in  their  overtures  of 
friendship.  They  advanced  in  the  confiding 
way  usual  among  Indians  when  they  bear 
the  pipe  of  peace,  and  consider  themselves 
sacred  from  attack.  If  we  violate  the  sanctity 
of  this  ceremonial,  by  any  hostile  movement 
on  our  part,  it  is  we  who  incur  the  charge  of 


'< 

y 

t 

1' 

1 

in 

i»^  ' 

111  i   ! 
ill   ^' 


m 


Ht:    il 


\m 


'II 

■Imi 

■  I'  (■; 


134 


J9onneville'0  Bdvcnturcd 


IV 


U 1 


I,  :! 


faithlessness ;  and  we  doubt  not  that  in  both 
these  instances  the  white  men  have  been  con- 
sidered by  the  Blackfeet  as  the  aggressors,  and 
have,  in  consequence,  been  held  up  as  men  not 
to  be  trusted. 

A  word  to  conclude  the  romantic  incident 
of  Loretto  and  his  Indian  bride.  A  few 
months  subsequent  to  the  event  just  related, 
the  young  Mexican  settled  his  accounts  with 
the  Rocky  Mountain  Company,  and  obtained 
his  discharge.  He  then  left  his  comrades  and 
set  oflf  to  rejoin  his  wife  and  child  among  her 
people  ;  and  we  understand  that,  at  the  time  we 
are  writing  these  pages,  he  resides  at  a  trading- 
house  established  of  late  by  the  American  Fur 
Company,  in  the  Blackfoot  country,  where  he 
acts  as  an  interpreter  and  has  his  Indian  girl 
with  him. 


:     ;  r  1  i 


*^*' 


!    i 


il  ll 


Cbaptcr  nt 0 

A  Winter  Camp  in  the  Wilderness — Medley  of  Trap- 
pers, Hunters,  and  Indians — Scarcity  of  Game — New 
Arrangements  in  the  Camp — Detachments  Sent  to  a 
Distance — Carelessness  of  the  Indians  when  En- 
camped— Sickness  among  the  Indians — Excellent 
Character  of  the  Nez  Percys—  The  Captain's  Effort 
as  a  Pacificator — A  Nez  Percy's  Argument  in  F.ivor 
of  War — Robberies  by  the  Blackfeet— Long-Suffer- 
ing of  the  Nez  Percys— a  Hunter's  Elysium  among 
the  Mountains — More  Robberies  —  The  Captain 
Preaches  up  a  Crusade — The  Effect  upon  his 
Hearers. 

FOR  the  greater  part  of  the  month  of  No- 
vember, Captain  Bonneville  remained  in 
his  temporary  post  on  Salmon  River. 
He  was  now  in  the  full  enjoyment  of  his 
wishes;  leading  a  hunter's  life  in  the  heart 
of  the  wilderness,  with  all  its  wild  populace 
around  him.  Besides  his  own  people,  motley 
in  character  and  costume — Creole,  Kentuckian, 
Indian,   half-breed,   hired  trapper,    and    free 

135 


lU    li 


ill     ^ 

1r  I 


I  ill      ■? 


I 


mi 


5i  a 


fij 


ii   I 


m 


1i 


i'l 


1 1 1 


I; 

ill!: 


^11; 

MS, 


ii 


m 


1..!    .     :Si 


!i"i' 


■'Jii!t'i;-';;i 


136 


J8onncviKc'0  Bdvcntures 


trapper — he  was  suk'rounded  by  encanipoiedts 
of  Nez  Percys  aad  Flatheads,  with  their  drovts 
bf  horses  covering  the  hills  and  piaiijii.  It 
was,  he  declares,  a  wild  and  bustling  sc/cn'.:. 
The  hunting  parties  of  white  men  and  red 
men,  continually  sallying  forth  and  returning  ; 
the  groups  at  the  various  encampments,  sonut 
cooking,  some  working,  some  amusing  them- 
selves at  different  games ;  the  neighing  of 
horse ;.  the  brayir^g  of  asses,  the  resounding 
strokes  of  the  axe,  the  sharp  report  of  the 
rifle,  the  v  hooj*,  the  halloo,  and  the  frequent 
burst  of  laughter,  all  in  the  midst  of  a  region 
suddenly  roused  fronl  perfect  silence  and  lone- 
liness by  this  transient  hunters'  sojourn, 
realized,  he  says,  the  idea  of  a  "  populous 
solitude." 

The  kind  and  genial  character  of  the  cap- 
tain had,  evidently,  its  influence  on  the  oppo- 
site races  thus  fortuitously  congregated  to- 
gether. The  most  perfect  harmony  prevailed 
between  them.  The  Indians,  he  says,  were 
friendly  in  their  dispositions,  and  honest  to  the 
most  scrupulous  degree,  in  their  intercourse 
with  the  white  men.  It  is  true  they  were 
somewhat  importunate  in  their  curiosity,  and 
apt  to  be  continually  in  the  way,  examining 
everything  with  keen  and  prying  eye,  and 
watching  every  movement  of  the  white  men. 


All  th 
humor 
pie  by 
transac 
poor  Ii 
above  i 

The 
Hangii 
ber  of  t 
in  prop 
tribes  \ 
Indian 
Captain 
horses  ( 
ponies, 
the  seve 
of  them 
whites 
climatec 
mountai 

Byde 
ment  t 
The  im 
Indians 
ing  hill 
pasturaj 
lurking 
danger  1 
too,  begi 


Indtan  Iboraea 


137 


g 
id 


All  this,  however,  was  borne  with  great  good- 
humor  by  the  captain,  and  through  his  exam- 
ple by  his  men.  Indeed,  throughout  all  his 
transactions,  he  shows  himself  the  friend  of  the 
poor  Indians,  and  his  conduct  towards  them  is 
above  all  praise. 

The  Nez  Percys,  the  Flatheads,  and  the 
Hanging- Ears  pride  themselves  upon  the  num- 
ber of  their  horses,  of  which  they  possess  more 
in  proportion  than  any  other  of  the  mountain 
tribes  within  the  buffalo  range.  Many  of  the 
Indian  warriors  and  hunters,  encamped  around 
Captain  Bonneville,  possess  from  thirty  to  fcrty 
horses  each.  Their  horses  are  stout,  well  built 
ponies,  of  great  wind,  and  capable  of  enduring 
the  severest  hardship  and  fatigue.  The  swiftest 
of  them,  however,  are  those  obtained  from  the 
whites  while  sufficiently  young  to  become  ac- 
climated and  inured  to  the  rough  service  of  the 
mountains. 

By  degrees  the  populousness  of  this  encamp- 
ment began  to  produce  its  inconveniences. 
The  immense  droves  of  horses  owned  by  the 
Indians  consumed  the  herbage  of  the  surround- 
ing hills  ;  while,  to  drive  them  to  any  distant 
pasturage,  in  a  neighborhood  abounding  with 
lurking  and  deadly  enemies,  would  be  to  en- 
danger the  loss  both  of  man  and  beast.  Game 
too,  began  to  grow  scarce.     It  was  soon  hunted 


iiH 


•.i 


I 

in  i 


(!,  ;S 


I3« 


Xonncvilic'e  SDventitrc0 


'■   hii 


m--i 


'•I 


nliMM 


iUi 


■'Hi 


l  I'll 


i  .  I  - 


,<■!>, 


■i  r  '  .  rr; 


aiul  frightened  out  of  the  viciiiity,  and  though 
the  Indians  made  a  wide  circuit  through  the 
mountains  in  the  hope  of  driving  the  buffalo 
towards  the  cantonment,  their  expedition  was 
unsuccessful.  It  was  plain  that  so  large  a  party 
could  not  subsist  themselves  there,  nor  in  any 
one  place,  throughout  the  winter.  Captain 
Bonneville,  therefore,  altered  his  whole  ar- 
rangements. He  detached  fifty  men  towards 
the  south  to  winter  upon  Snake  River,  and  to 
trap  about  its  waters  in  the  spring,  with  orders 
to  rejoin  him  in  the  month  of  Jul3%  at  Horse 
Creek,  in  Green  River  Valley,  which  he  had 
fixed  upon  as  the  general  rendezvous  of  his 
company  for  the  ensuing  year. 

Of  all  his  late  party,  he  now  retained  with 
him  merely  a  small  number  of  free  trappers, 
with  whom  he  intended  to  sojourn  among  the 
Nez  Percys  and  Flatheads,  and  adopt  the  In- 
dian mode  of  moving  with  the  game  and  grass. 
Those  bands,  in  effect,  shortly  afterwards  broke 
up  their  encampments  and  set  off  for  a  less 
beaten  neighborhood.  Captain  Bonneville  re- 
mained behind  for  a  few  da}  3,  that  he  might 
secretly  prepare  caches^  in  which  to  deposit 
everything  not  required  for  current  use.  Thus 
lightened  of  all  superfluous  incumbrance,  he 
set  off  on  the  20th  of  November  to  rejoin  his 
Indian  allies.     He  found  them  encamped  in  a 


is<i" ' ' 


Care  of  toxBce 


139 


secluded  part  of  the  country,  at  the  head  of  a 
small  stream.  Considering  themselves  out  of 
all  danger,  in  this  sequester^  1  spot,  from  their 
old  enemies,  the  Blackfeet,  their  encampment 
manifested  the  most  negligent  srcurity.  Their 
lodges  were  scattered  in  every  direction,  and 
their  horses  covered  every  hill  for  a  great  dis- 
tance round,  grazing  upon  the  upland  bunch 
grass,  which  grew  in  great  abundance,  and, 
though  dry,  retained  its  nutritious  properties 
instead  of  losing  them,  like  other  grasses,  in 
the  autumn. 

When  the  Nez  Percys,  Flatheads,  and  Pends 
Oreilles  are  encamped  in  a  dangerous  neigh- 
borhood, says  Captain  Bonneville,  the  greatest 
care  is  taken  of  their  horses,  those  prime  arti- 
cles of  Indian  wealth,  and  objects  of  Indian 
depredation.  Each  warrior  has  his  horse  tied 
by  one  foot  at  night  to  a  stake  planted  before 
his  lodge.  Here  they  remain  until  broad  day- 
light ;  by  that  time  the  young  men  of  the  camp 
are  already  ranging  over  the  surrounding  hills. 
Each  family  then  drives  its  horses  to  some 
eligible  spot,  where  they  are  left  to  graze  unat- 
tended. A  young  Indian  repairs  occasionally 
to  the  pasture  to  give  them  water,  and  to  see 
that  all  is  well.  So  accustomed  are  the  horses 
to  this  management,  that  they  keep  together  in 
the  pasture  where  they  have  been  left.     As  the 


3    ! 


1    : 

u 


i'   "1 

i 


ii 


li 


.K| 


if-  i 


,1] 


I 


m 


ii:.       1   i 


ill.      ! 


f\.l: 


m 


w 


m\ 


■  ■  u  , 


1:1 


Mil- 


!!! 


140 


JConiievtUe'e  BOvetitureit 


sun  sinks  behind  the  hills,  they  may  be  seen 
moving  from  all  points  towards  the  camp, 
where  they  surrender  themselves  to  be  tied  up 
for  the  night  Even  in  situations  of  danger, 
the  Indians  rarely  set  guards  over  their  camp 
at  night,  intrusting  that  office  entirely  to  their 
vigilant  and  well  trained  dogs. 

In  an  encampment,  however,  of  such  fancied 
security  as  that  in  which  Captain  Bonneville 
found  Iiis  Indian  friends,  much  of  these  pre- 
cautions with  respect  to  their  horses  are  omit- 
ted. They  merely  drive  them,  at  nightfall,  to 
some  sequestered  little  dell,  and  leave  them 
there,  at  perfect  liberty,  until  the  morning. 

One  object  of  Captain  Bonneville  in  winter- 
ing among  these  Indians,  was  to  procure  a 
supply  of  horses  against  the  spring.  They 
were,  however,  extremely  unwilling  to  part 
with  any,  and  it  was  with  great  difficulty  that 
he  purchased,  at  the  rate  of  twenty  dollars 
each,  a  few  for  the  use  of  some  of  his  free 
trappers,  who  were  on  foot,  and  dependent  on 
him  for  their  equipment. 

In  this  encampment  Captain  Bonneville  re- 
mained from  the  21st  of  November  to  the  9th 
of  December.  During  this  period  the  ther- 
mometer ranged  from  thirteen  to  forty- two 
degrees.  There  were  occasional  falls  of  snow  ; 
but  it  generally  melted  away  almost  immedi- 


ately, 

to  sh 

Decei 

seven 

Th( 

his  fo 

tain  B 

by  a  I 

the  w< 

Bear 

afterw 

Salmo 

Mor 

Matthi 

uneasi^ 

Captaii 

the  cot 

pass,  a 

concert 

great  £ 

out   lik 

a  caval 

tance. 

ceeded 

pretend 

was  evil 

so  smal 

gerous  1 

A  dij 


» 


Concern  felt  for  Aattbieu 


141 


ately,  and  the  tender  blades  of  new  grass  began 
to  shoot  up  among  the  old.  On  the  7th  of 
December,  however,  the  thermometer  fell  to 
seven  degrees. 

The  reader  will  recollect  that,  on  distributing 
his  forces,  when  in  Green  River  Valley,  Cap- 
tain Bonneville  had  detached  a  party,  headed 
by  a  leader  of  the  name  of  Matthieu,  with  all 
the  weak  and  disabled  horses,  to  sojourn  about 
Bear  River,  meet  the  Shoshonie  bands,  and 
afterwards  to  rejoin  him  at  his  winter  camp  on 
Salmon  River. 

More  than  sufficient  time  had  elapsed,  yet 
Matthieu  failed  to  make  his  appearance,  and 
uneasiness  began  to  be  felt  on  his  account. 
Captain  Bonneville  sent  out  four  men  to  range 
the  country  through  which  he  would  have  to 
pass,  and  endeavor  to  get  some  information 
concerning  him  ;  for  his  route  lay  across  the 
great  Snaka  River  plain,  which  spreads  itself 
out  like  an  Aiabian  desert,  and  on  which 
a  cavalcade  could  be  descried  at  a  great  dis- 
tance. The  scouts  soon  returned,  having  pro- 
ceeded no  farther  than  the  edge  of  the  plain, 
pretending  that  their  horses  were  lame ;  but  it 
was  evident  they  had  feared  to  venture,  with 
so  small  a  force,  into  these  exposed  and  dan- 
gerous regions. 

A  disease,  which  Captain  Bonneville  sup- 


h  1 


Ml 


ii 


i  I 

\11 


If'ii' 


14a 


3Botiiiet^fnc'0  BDrcnturc0 


posed  to  be  pneumonia,  now  appeared  among 
the  Indians,  carrying  off  numbers  of  them,  after 
an  illness  of  three  or  four  days. 

The  worthy  captain  acted  as  physician,  pre- 
scribing profuse  sweatings  and  copious  bleed- 
ings, and  uniformly  with  success,  if  the  patient 
was  subsequently  treated  with  proper  care. 
In  extraordinary  cases,  the  poor  savages  called 
in  the  aid  of  their  own  doctors  or  conjurers, 
who  officiated  with  great  noise  and  mummery, 
but  with  little  benefit.  Those  who  died  during 
this  epidemic,  were  buried  in  graves,  after  the 
manner  of  the  whites,  but  without  any  regard 
to  the  direction  of  the  head.  It  is  a  fact  worthy 
of  notice,  that,  while  this  malady  made  such 
ravages  among  the  natives,  not  a  single  white 
man  had  the  slightest  symptom  of  it. 

A  familiar  intercourse  of  some  standing  with 
the  Pierced-Nosed  and  Flathead  Indians  had 
now  convinced  Captain  Bonneville  of  their 
amicable  and  inoffensive  character  ;  he  began 
to  take  a  strong  interest  in  them,  and  conceived 
the  idea  of  becoming  a  pacificator,  and  healing 
the  deadly  feud  between  them  and  the  Black- 
feet,  in  which  they  were  so  deplorably  the  suf- 
ferers. He  proposed  the  matter  to  some  of  the 
leaders,  and  urged  that  they  should  meet  the 
Blackfeet  chiefs  in  a  grand  pacific  conference, 
offering  to  send  two  of  his  men  to  the  enemy's 


B  Counctl  o(  Mar 


M3 


ly's 


camp  with  pipe,  tobacco,  and  flag  of  truce,  to 
negotiate  the  proposed  meeting. 

The  Nez  Perc<^s  and  Flathead  sages,  upon 
this,  held  a  council  of  war,  of  two  days'  dura- 
tion, in  which  there  was  abundance  of  hard 
smoking  and  long  talking,  and  both  eloqaence 
and  tobacco  were  nearly  exhausted.  At  length 
they  came  to  a  decision  to  reject  the  worthy 
captain's  proposition,  and  upon  pretty  substan- 
tial grounds,  as  the  reader  may  judge. 

"War,"  said  the  chiefs,  "  is  a  bloody  busi- 
ness, and  full  of  evil ;  but  it  keeps  the  eyes  of 
the  chiefs  always  open,  and  makes  the  limbs 
of  the  young  men  strong  and  supple.  In  war, 
every  one  is  on  the  alert.  If  we  see  a  trail,  we 
know  it  must  be  an  enemy ;  if  the  Blackfeet 
come  to  us,  we  know  it  is  for  war,  and  we  are 
ready.  Peace,  on  the  other  hand,  sounds  no 
alarm  ;  the  eyes  of  the  chiefs  are  closed  in 
sleep,  and  the  young  men  are  sleek  and  lazy. 
The  horses  stray  into  the  mountains ;  the 
women  and  their  little  babes  go  about  alone. 
But  the  heart  of  a  Blackfoot  is  a  lie,  and  his 
tongue  is  a  trap.  If  he  says  peace,  it  is  to  de- 
ceive ;  he  comes  to  us  as  a  brother  :  he  smokes 
his  pipe  with  us ;  but  when  he  sees  us  weak, 
and  off  our  guard,  he  will  slay  and  steal.  We 
will  have  no  such  peace  ;  let  there  be  war  ! '  * 

With  this  reasoning.  Captain  Bonneville  was 


:i 


i. 


iii 


■I 


■ 

,,       ,  / 

1 

*■              \     ■     ■ 

r 

(  \ 

'  ! 
^  1 

^, 

''■'■ 

m 

i.ifi 

144 


Xow\cvi{lc*B  Bdventuree 


fain  to  acquiesce ;  but,  since  the  sagacious 
Flatheads  and  their  allies  were  content  to  re- 
main in  a  state  of  warfare,  he  wished  them,  at 
least,  to  exercise  the  boasted  vigilance  which 
war  was  to  produce,  and  to  keep  their  eyes 
open.  He  represented  to  them  the  impossi- 
bility, that  two  such  considerable  clans  could 
move  about  the  country  without  leaving  trails 
by  which  they  might  be  traced.  Besides, 
among  the  Blackfeet  braves  were  several  Nez 
Percys,  who  had  been  taken  prisoners  in  early 
youth,  adopted  by  -their  captors,  and  trained 
up  and  imbued  with  warlike  and  predatory 
notions ;  these  had  lost  all  sympathies  with 
their  native  tribe,  and  would  be  prone  to  lead 
the  enemy  to  their  secret  haunts.  He  exhorted 
them,  therefore,  to  keep  upon  the  alert,  and 
never  to  remit  their  vigilance,  while  within  the 
range  of  so  crafty  and  cruel  a  foe.  All  these 
counsels  were  lost  upon  his  easy  and  simple- 
minded  hearers.  A  careless  indifiference  reigned 
throughout  their  encampments,  and  their 
horses  were  permitted  to  range  the  hills  at 
night  in  perfect  tireedom.  Captain  Bonneville 
had  his  own  horses  brought  in  at  night,  and 
properly  picketed  and  guaided.  The  evil  he 
apprehended  soon  took  place.  In  a  single 
night,  a  sweep  was  made  through  the  neighbor- 
ing pastures  by  the  Blackfeet,  and  eighty -six 


Vobberc  bs  tbc  JSUchtcet 


M5 


)or- 
[six 


of  the  finest  horses  carried  off.  A  whip  and  a 
rope  were  left  in  a  conspicuous  situation  by  the 
robbers,  as  a  taunt  to  the  simpletons  they  had 
unhorsed. 

lyong  before  sunrise,  the  news  of  this  calam- 
ity spread  like  wildfire  through  the  different 
encampments.  Captain  Bonneville,  whose  own 
horses  remained  safe  at  their  pickets,  watched 
in  momentary  expectation  of  an  outbreak  of 
warriors,  Pierced-Nose  and  Flathead,  in  furious 
pursuit  of  the  marauders ;  but  no  such  thing 
— they  contented  themselves  with  searching 
diligently  over  hill  and  dale,  to  glean  up  such 
horses  as  had  escaped  the  hands  of  the  maraud- 
ers, and  then  resigned  themselves  to  their  loss 
with  the  most  exemplary  quiescence. 

Some,  it  is  true,  who  were  entirely  unhorsed, 
set  out  on  a  begging  visit  to  their  cousins,  as 
they  call  them,  the  I/)wer  Nez  Perces,  who 
inhabit  the  lower  country  about  the  Columbia, 
and  possess  horses  in  abundance.  To  these 
they  repair  when  in  difi&culty,  and  seldom  fail, 
by  dint  of  begging  and  bartering,  to  get  them- 
selves once  more  mounted  on  horseback. 

Game  had  now  become  scarce  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  the  camp,  and  it  was  necessary, 
according  to  Indian  custom,  to  move  off  to  a 
less  beaten  ground.  Captain  Bonneville  pro- 
posed the  Horse  Praine  ;  but  his  Indian  friends 

VOL.  1.— lO 


^1       ' 


146 


JBonncviIIe*0  Bdventurcs 


I!! 


objected  that  many  of  the  Nez  Percys  had 
gone  to  visit  their  cousins,  and  that  the  whites 
were  few  in  number,  so  that  their  united  force 
was  not  sufficient  to  venture  on  the  buffalo 
grounds,  which  were  infested  by  bands  of 
Blackfeet. 

They  now  spoke  of  a  place  at  no  great  dis- 
tance, which  they  represented  as  a  perfect 
hunter's  elysium.  It  was  on  the  right  branch, 
or  head  stream  of  the  river,  locked  up  among 
cliffs  and  precipices,  where  there  was  no  danger 
from  roving  bands,  and  where  the  Blackfeet 
dare  not  enter.  Here,  they  said,  the  elk 
abounded,  and  the  mountain  sheep  were  to  be 
seen  trooping  upon  the  rocks  and  hills.  A 
little  distance  beyond  it,  also,  herds  of  buffalo 
were  to  be  met  with,  out  of  the  range  of  danger. 
Thither  they  proposed  to  move  their  camp. 

The  proposition  pleased  the  captain,  who 
was  desirous,  through  the  Indians,  of  becom- 
ing acquainted  with  all  the  secret  places  of 
the  land.  Accordingly,  on  the  9th  of  Decem- 
ber, they  struck  their  tents,  and  moved  for- 
ward by  short  stages,  as  many  of  the  Indians 
were  j^et  feeble  from  the  late  malady. 

Following  up  the  right  fork  of  the  river, 
they  came  to  where  it  entered  a  deep  gorge  of 
the  mountains,  up  which,  lay  the  secluded 
region  so  much  vaunted  by  the  Indians.     Cap  • 


•i^V, 


""*1. 


Xona«»5'ittcrin(j  of  tbc  "Hci  pcrccd       147 

tain  Bonneville  halted,  and  encamped  for  three 
days,  before  entering  the  gorge.  In  the  mean- 
time, he  detached  five  of  his  free  trappers  to 
scour  the  hills  and  kill  as  many  elk  as  possible, 
before  the  main  body  should  enter,  as  they 
would  then  be  soon  frightened  away  by  the 
various  Indian  hunting  parties. 

While  thus  encamped,  they  were  still  liable 
to  the  marauds  of  the  Blackfeet,  and  Captain 
Bonneville  admonished  his  Indian  friends  to 
be  upon  their  guard.  The  Nez  Perces,  hov,- 
ever,  notwithstanding  their  recent  loss,  were 
still  careless  of  their  horses  ;  merely  driving 
them  to  some  secluded  spot,  and  leaving  them 
there  for  the  night,  without  setting  any  guard 
upon  them.  The  consequence  was  a  second 
swoop,  in  which  forty-one  were  carried  off. 
This  was  borne  with  equal  philosophy  with  the 
first,  and  no  effort  was  made  eith'. .  to  recover 
the  horses,  or  to  take  vengeance  on  the  thieves. 

The  Nez  Perces,  however,  grew  more  cau- 
tious with  respect  to  their  remaining  horses, 
driving  them  regularly  to  the  camp  every 
evening,  and  fastening  them  to  pickets.  Cap- 
tain Bonneville,  however,  told  them  that  this 
was  not  enough.  It  was  evident  that  they 
were  dogged  by  a  daring  and  persevering 
enemy,  who  was  encouraged  by  past  impunity  ; 
they  should,  therefore,  take  more  than  usual 


1  :■-'.' 


148 


JSoimcviUe'd  BOvcnturcd 


precautions,  and  post  a  guard  at  night  over 
th^^ir  cavalry.  They  could  not,  however,  be 
persuadec^  to  depart  from  their  usual  custom. 
The  horse  once  picketed,  the  care  of  the  owner 
was  over  for  the  night,  and  he  slept  profoundly 
None  waked  in  the  camp  but  the  gamblers, 
who,  absorbed  in  their  play,  were  more  difi&cult 
LO  be  roused  to  external  circumstances  than 
even  the  sleepers. 

The  Blackfeet  are  bold  enemies,  and  fond  of 
hazardous  exploits.  The  band  that  were  hov- 
ering about  the  neighborhood,  finding  they 
had  such  pacific  people  to  deal  with,  redoubled 
their  daring.  The  horses  being  now  picketed 
before  the  lodges,  a  number  of  Blackfeet  scouts 
penetrated  in  the  early  part  of  the  night  into  the 
very  centre  of  the  camp.  Here  they  went  about 
among  the  lodges,  as  calmly  and  deliberately 
as  if  at  home,  quietly  cutting  loose  the  horses 
that  stood  picketed  by  the  lodges  of  their 
sleeping  owners.  One  of  these  prowlers,  more 
adventurous  than  the  rest,  approached  a  fire, 
round  which  a  group  of  Nez  Perces  were  gam- 
bling with  the  most  intense  eagerness.  Here 
he  stood  for  so/r/e  time,  muffled  up  in  his  robe, 
peering  over  the  shoulders  of  tlie  players  watch- 
ing the  changes  of  their  countenances  and 
the  fluctuations  of  the  game.  So  completely 
engrossed  were  they,  that  the  presence  of  this 


1 


}Dartnd  £ncmted 


M9 


muffled  eavesdropper  was  unnoticed,  and  hav- 
ing executed  his  bravado,  he  retired  undis- 
covered. 

Having  cut  loose  as  many  horses  as  they 
could  conveniently  carry  off,  the  Blackfeet 
scouts  rejoined  their  comrades,  and  all  re- 
mained patiently  round  the  camp.  By  degrees, 
the  horses,  finding  themselves  at  liberty,  took 
their  route  towards  their  customary  grazing 
ground.  As  they  emerged  from  the  camp, 
they  were  silently  taken  possession  of,  until, 
having  secured  about  thirty,  the  Blackfeet 
sprang  on  their  backs  and  scampered  off.  The 
clatter  of  hoofs  startled  the  gamblers  from 
their  game.  They  gave  the  alarm,  which 
soon  roused  the  sleepers  from  every  lodge. 
Still  all  was  quiescent ;  no  marshalling  offerees, 
no  saddling  of  steed  and  dashing  off  in  pursuit, 
no  talk  of  retribution  for  their  repeated  out- 
rages. The  patience  of  Captain  Bonneville 
was  at  length  exhausted.  He  had  played  the 
part  of  a  pacificator  without  success  ;  he  now 
altered  his  tone,  and  resolved,  if  possible,  to 
rouse  their  war  spirit. 

Accordingly,  convoking  their  chiefs,  he 
inveighed  against  their  craven  policy,  and 
urged  the  necessity  of  vigorous  and  retributive 
measures,  that  would  check  the  confidence 
and  presumption  of  their  enemies,  if  not  inspire 


ll 


il'li  ^ 


tso 


Xonnevi{{c*6  BOvcnturcd 


them  with  awe.  For  this  purpose,  he  advised 
that  a  war  party  should  be  immediately  sent 
off  on  the  trail  of  the  marauders,  to  follow 
them,  if  necessary,  into  the  very  heart  of  the 
Blackfoot  country,  and  not  to  leave  them  until 
they  had  taken  signal  vengeance.  Beside  this, 
he  recommended  the  organization  of  minor 
war  parties,  to  make  reprisals  to  the  extent  of 
the  lossses  sustained.  "  Unless  you  rouse 
yourselves  from  your  apathy,"  said  he,  "  and 
strike  some  bold  and  decisive  blow,  you  will 
cease  to  be  considered  men,  or  objects  of  manly 
warfare.  The  very  squaws  and  children  of 
the  Blackfeet  will  be  sent  against  you,  while 
their  warriors  reserve  themselves  for  nobler 
antagonists. " 

This  harangue  had  evidently  a  momentary 
effect  upon  the  pride  of  the  hearers.  After  a 
short  pause,  however,  one  of  the  orators  arose. 
It  was  bad,  he  said,  to  go  to  war  for  mere  re- 
venge. The  Great  Spirit  had  given  them  a 
heart  for  peace,  not  for  war.  They  had  lost 
horses,  it  was  true,  but  the}^  could  easily  get 
others  from  their  cousins,  the  lyower  Nez 
Perces,  without  incurring  any  risk ;  whereas, 
in  war  they  should  lose  men,  who  were  not  so 
readily  replaced.  As  to  their  late  losses,  an 
increased  watchfulnCvSs  would  prevent  any 
more  misfortunes  of  the  kind.    He  disapproved. 


(( 


!J:i; 


MarlifiC  1)arandue 


»5i 


so 


therefore,  of  all  hostile  measures  ;  and  all  the 
other  chiefs  concurred  in  his  opinion. 

Captain  Bonneville  again  took  up  the  point. 
"It  is  true,"  said  he,  ''the  Great  Spirit  has 
given  you  a  heart  to  love  your  friends  ;  but  he 
has  also  given  you  an  arm  to  strike  your  ene- 
mies. Unless  you  do  something  speedily  to 
put  an  end  to  this  continual  blundering,  I  must 
say  farewell.  As  yet,  I  have  sustained  no  loss  ; 
thanks  to  the  precautions  which  you  have 
slighted  :  but  my  property  is  too  unsafe  here  ; 
my  turn  will  come  next ;  I  and  my  people  will 
share  the  contempt  you  are  bringing  upon 
yourselves,  and  w^U  be  thought,  like  you, 
poor-spirited  beings,  who  may  at  any  time  be 
plundered  with  impunity." 

The  conference  broke  up  with  some  signs  of 
excitement  on  the  part  of  the  Indians.  Early 
the  next  morning,  a  narty  of  thirty  men  set  off 
in  pursuit  of  the  foe,  and  Captain  Bonneville 
hoped  to  hear  a  good  account  of  the  Blackfeet 
marauders.  To  his  disappointment,  the  war 
party  came  lagging  back  on  the  following  day, 
leading  a  few  old,  sorry,  broken-down  horses, 
which  the  freebooters  had  not  been  able  to 
urge  to  sufficient  speed.  Tiie  effort  exhausted 
the  martial  spirit  and  satisted  the  wounded 
pride  of  the  Nez  Percys,  and  they  relapsed  into 
their  usual  state  of  passive  indifference. 


I!'    ■ 

ii'  • 


I'i. ;' 


i   : 

I!'- 


,1 


Cbaptcr  flf f • 

Story  of  Kosato,  the  P.enegade  Blackfoot. 

IF  the  meekness  and  long-suffering  of  the 
Pierced-Noses  grieved  the  spirit  of  Captain 
Bonneville,  there  was  another  individual 
in  the  camp,  to  whom  they  were  still  more 
annoying.  This  was  a  Blackfoot  renegado, 
named  Kosato,  a  fiery,  hot-blooded  youth,  who, 
with  a  beautiful  girl  of  the  same  tribe,  had 
taken  refuge  among  the  Nez  Percys.  Though 
adopted  into  the  tribe,  he  still  retained  the 
warlike  spirit  of  his  race,  and  loathed  the 
peaceful,  inoffensive  habits  of  those  around 
him.  The  hunting  of  the  deer,  the  elk,  and 
the  buffalo,  which  was  the  height  of  their  am- 
bition, was  too  tame  to  satisfy  his  wild  and 
restless  nattu-e.  His  heart  burned  for  the 
foray,  the  ambush,  the  skirmish,  the  scamper, 
and  all  the  haps  and  hazards  of  roving  and 
predatory  warfare. 

The  recent  hoverings  of  the  Blackfeet  about 
s,.  _  zss 


!         i1 


fco0ato,  tbc  Vencdadc  JSIachtcct        153 


the  camp,  and  their  nightly  prowls,  and  daring 
and  successful  marauds,  had  kept  him  in  a 
fever  and  a  flutter ;  like  a  hawk  in  a  cage, 
who  hears  his  late  companions  swooping  and 
screaming  in  wild  liberty  above  him.  The 
attempt  of  Captain  Bonneville  to  rouse  the  war 
spirit  of  the  Nez  Percys,  and  prompt  them  to 
retaliation,  was  ardently  seconded  by  Kosato. 
For  several  days  he  was  incessantly  devising 
schemes  of  vengeance,  and  endeavoring  to  set 
on  foot  an  expedition  that  should  carry  dismay 
and  desolation  into  the  Blackfeet  towns.  All 
his  art  was  exerted  to  touch  upon  those  springs 
of  human  action  with  which  he  was  most  fa- 
miliar. He  drew  the  listening  savages  round 
him  by  his  nervous  eloquence;  taunted  them 
with  recitals  of  past  wrongs  and  insults  ;  drew 
glowing  pictures  of  triumphs  and  trophies 
within  their  reac^  :  recounted  tales  of  daring 
and  romantic  enterprise,  of  secret  marchings, 
covert  lurkings,  midnight  surprisals,  sackings, 
burnings,  plunderings,  scalpings ;  together 
with  the  triumphant  return,  and  the  feasting 
and  rejoicing  of  the  victors.  These  wild  tales 
were  intermingled  with  the  beating  of  the 
dnim,  the  yell,  the  war-whoop,  and  the  war- 
dance,  so  inspiring  to  Indian  valor.  All, 
however,  wee  lost  upon  the  peaceful  spirits  of 
his  hearers  ;  not  a  Nez  Perc6  was  to  be  roused 


u: 


\ 


hi 


%. 


yii 


' :  1 1  ! 


ni: 


mi':. 


!  m 


'54 


JSonncvillc'd  BOrcnturcd 


to  veil gep nee,  or  stimulated  to  glorious  war. 
In  the  biuerness  of  his  heart,  the  Blackf(jot 
renegado  repined  at  the  mishap  which  had 
severed  him  from  a  race  of  congenial  spirits, 
i*nd  driven  him  to  take  refuge  among  beings 
so  destitute  of  martial  fire. 

The  character  and  conduct  of  this  man  at- 
tracted the  attention  of  Captain  Bonneville, 
and  he  was  anxious  to  hear  the  reason  why  he 
had  deserted  his  tribe,  and  why  he  looked 
back  upon  them  with  such  deadly  hostility. 
Kosato  told  him  his  own  story  briefly  ; — it 
gives  a  picture  of  the  deep,  strong  passiors 
that  work  in  the  bosoms  of  these  miscalled 
stoics. 

"  You  see  my  wife,"  said  he;  '*  she  is  good  ; 
she  is  btiutiful — I  love  her.  Yet,  she  has 
been  the  cause  of  all  my  troubles.  She  was 
the  wife  of  my  chief.  I  loved  her  more  than 
he  did ;  and  she  knew  it.  We  talked  to- 
gether ;  we  laughed  together  ;  we  were  always 
seeking  each  other's  society ;  but  we  were  as 
innocent  as  children  The  chief  grew  jealous, 
and  commanded  her  to  speak  with  me  no 
more.  His  heart  became  hard  towards  her; 
his  jealousy  grew  more  furious.  He  beat  her 
without  cause  and  without  mercy  ;  and  threat- 
ened to  kill  her  outright,  if  she  even  looked  at 
me.     Do  you  want  traces  of  his  fury  ?    Look 


at 


Stors  of  fcodnto 


«55 


at  that  scar  !  His  rage  agaii,>t  me  was  no  less 
perseeuting.  War  parties  of  llie  Crows  were 
hovering  round  us ;  our  young  men  had  seen 
their  trail.  All  hearts  were  roused  for  action  ; 
my  horses  were  before  my  lodge.  Suddenly 
the  chief  came,  took  them  '^o  his  own  pickets, 
and  called  them  his  ovv  ''nt  could  1  do  ? — 
he  was  a  chief.     I  dui  peak,  but  my 

heart  was  burning.  I  jc  .  .  .o  longer  in  the 
council,  the  hunt,  or  the  war-feast.  What  had 
I  to  do  there  ?  an  unhorsed,  degraded  warrior. 
I  kept  by  myself,  and  thought  of  nothing  but 
these  wrongs  and  outrages. 

"I  was  sitting  one  evening  upon  a  knoll 
that  overlooked  the  meadow  where  the  horses 
were  pastured.  I  saw  the  horses  that  were 
once  mine  grazing  among  those  of  the  chief. 
This  maddened  me,  and  I  sat  brooding  for  a 
time  over  the  injuries  I  had  suffered,  and  the 
cruelties  which  she  I  loved  had  endured  for 
my  sake,  until  my  heart  swelled  and  grew 
sore,  and  my  teeth  were  clinched.  As  I  looked 
down  upon  the  meadow,  I  saw  the  chief  walk- 
ing among  his  horses.  I  fastened  my  eyes  on 
him  as  a  hawk's  ;  my  blood  boiled ;  I  drew 
my  breath  hard.  He  went  among  the  willows. 
In  an  instant  I  was  on  my  feet  :  my  hand  was 
on  my  knife — I  flew  rather  than  ran— before 
he  was  aware,  I  sprang  upon  him,  and  with 


•\ 


.%^^^'\- 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


-^  1^    12.2 


I 


1.1    l.-^i 


2.0 


N^ 


1 1.25  1  U   ,  ,.6 

< 

6"     

► 

•i 


Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


33  WIST  MAIN  STRIET 

WEBSTIR.N.Y.  MStO 

(716)  •72-4503 


\ 


iV 


N> 


^^  <8^V  "^^ 


i 


1  n 


^(i? 


156 


Xonncvil\c*s  B^ventured 


'I' 


two  blows  laid  him  dead  at  my  feet.  I  covered 
his  body  with  earth,  and  strewed  bushes  over 
the  place ;  then  hastened  to  her  I  loved,  told 
her  what  I  had  done,  and  urged  her  to  fly  with 
me.  She  only  answered  me  with  tears.  I 
reminded  her  of  the  wrongs  I  had  suffered, 
and  of  the  blows  and  stripes  she  had  endured 
from  the  deceased ;  I  had  done  nothing  but  an 
act  of  justice.  I  again  urged  her  to  fly  ;  but 
she  only  wept  the  more,  and  bade  me  go.  My 
heart  was  heavy,  but  my  eyes  were  dry.  I 
folded  my  arms.  '  *Tis  well,'  said  I,  *  Kosato 
will  go  alone  to  the  desert.  None  will  be  with 
him  but  the  wild  beasts  of  the  desert.  The 
seekers  of  blood  may  follow  on  his  trail.  They 
may  come  upon  him  when  he  sleeps,  and  jjlut 
their  revenge  ;  but  you  will  be  safe.  Kosato 
will  go  alone.' 

**  I  turned  away.  She  sprang  after  me,  and 
strained  me  in  her  arms.  '  No,'  cried  she, 
'  Kosato  shall  not  go  alone !  Wherever  he 
goes  I  will  go — he  shall  never  part  from  me. ' 

* '  We  hastily  took  in  our  hands  such  things 
as  we  most  needed,  and  stealing  quietly  from 
the  village,  mounted  the  first  horses  we  en- 
countered. Speeding  day  and  night,  we  soon 
reached  this  tribe.  They  received  us  with 
welcome,  and  we  have  dwelt  with  them  in 
peace.     They  are  good  and  kind :    they  are 


,  I 


store  ot  1tO0ato 


157 


honest ;   but  their  hearts  are  the  hearts  of 
women. ' ' 

Such  was  the  story  of  Kosato,  as  ;^elated  by 
him  to  Captain  Bonneville.  It  is  of  a  kind 
that  often  occurs  in  Indian  life ;  where  love 
elopements  from  tribe  to  tribe  are  as  frequent 
as  among  the  novel-read  heroes  and  heroines 
of  sentimental  civilization,  and  often  give  rise 
to  bloody  and  lasting  feuds. 


1,1 


\l  ■  'i 


{111  1 


::!! 


i 


n 


m 


W- 


m 


Cbaptct  f  f  ID. 

The  Party  Enters  the  Mountain  Gorge — A  Wild 
Fastness  among  the  Hills — Mountain  Mutton — 
Peace  and  Plenty — ^The  Amorous  Trapper — ^A  Pie- 
bald Wedding — A  Free  Trapper's  Wife— Her  Gala 
Bqui^ments — Christmas  in  the  Wilderness. 

ON  the  19th  of  December  Captain  Bonne- 
ville and  his  confederate  Indians  raised 
their  camp,  and  entered  the  narrow 
gorge  made  by  the  north  fork  of  Salmon  River. 
Up  this  lay  the  secure  and  plenteous  himting 
region  so  temptingly  described  by  the  In-^^ns. 
Since  leaving  Green  River  the  plait  iiad 
invariably  been  of  loose  sand  or  coarse  gravel, 
and  the  rocky  formation  of  the  laountains  of 
primitive  limestone.  The  rivers,  in  general, 
were  skirted  with  willows  and  bitter  cotton- 
wood  trees,  and  the  prairies  covered  with 
wormwood.  In  the  hollow  breast  of  the 
mountains  which  they  were  now  penetrating, 
the  siUTounding  heights  were  clothed    with 

158 


IMcnti?  nnd  Sccuriti? 


i$9 


pine ;  while  the  decUvities  of  the  lower  hills 
afforded  abundance  of  bunch  grass  for  the 
horses. 

As  the  Indians  had  represented,  they  were 
now  in  a  natural  fastness  of  the  mountains, 
the  ingress  and  egress  of  which  was  by  a  deep 
gorge,  so  narrow,  rugged,  and  difficult,  as  to 
prevent  secret  approach  or  rapid  retreat,  and 
to  admit  of  easy  defense.  The  Blackfeet, 
therefore,  refrained  from  venturing  in  after  the 
Nez  Percys,  awaiting  a  better  chance,  when 
they  should  once  more  emerge  into  the  open 
country. 

Captain  Bonneville  soon  found  that  the 
Indians  had  not  exaggerated  the  advantages 
of  this  region.  Besides  numerous  gangs  of 
elk,  large  flocks  of  the  ahsahta  or  bighorn,  the 
mountain  sheep,  were  to  be  seen  bounding 
among  the  precipices.  These  simple  animals 
were  easily  circumvented  and  destroyed.  A 
few  hunters  may  surround  a  flock  and  kill  as 
many  as  they  please.  Numbers  were  daily 
brought  into  camp,  and  the  flesh  of  those 
which  were  young  and  fat  was  extolled  as 
superior  to  the  finest  mutton. 

Here,  then,  there  was  a  cessation  from  toil, 
from  hunger,  and  alarm.  Past  ills  and  dangers 
were  forgotten.  The  hunt,  the  game,  the  song, 
the  story,   the  rough  though  good-humored 


!V,,fj 


i 


I  : 

i  ' 


11      . 


1    '.^ 

1 : ;  ■ 


iil; 


i6o 


JSonneville'd  BOvcnturcd 


joke,  made  time  pass  joyously  away,  and  plenty 
and  security  reigned  throughout  the  camp. 

Idleness  and  ease,  it  is  said,  lead  to  love, 
and  love  to  matrimony,  in  civilized  life,  and 
the  same  process  takes  place  in  the  wilderness. 
FiUed  with  good  cheer  and  mountain  mutton, 
one  of  the  free  trappers  began  to  repine  at  the 
liolitude  of  his  lodge,  and  to  experience  the 
force  of  that  great  law  of  nature,  *'  It  is  not 
aieet  for  man  to  live  alone." 

After  a  night  of  grave  cogitation,  he  repaired 
lo  Kowsoter,  the  Pierced-Nose  chief ;  and  un- 
folded to  him  the  secret  workings  of  his  bosom. 

**  I  want,"  said  he,  "a  wife.  Give  me  one 
from  among  your  tribe.  Not  a  young,  giddy- 
pated  girl,  that  will  think  of  nothing  but 
flaunting  and  finery,  but  a  sober,  discreet, 
hard-working  squav; ;  one  that  will  share  my 
lot  without  flinching,  however  hard  it  may  be  ; 
that  can  take  care  of  my  lodge  and  be  a  com- 
panion and  a  helpmate  to  me  in  the  wilder- 
ness." Kowsoter  promised  to  look  around 
among  the  females  of  his  tribe,  and  procure 
such  a  one  as  he  desired.  Two  days  were 
requisite  for  the  search.  At  the  expiration  of 
these,  Kowsoter  called  at  his  lodge  and  informed 
him  that  he  would  bring  his  bride  to  him  in 
the  course  of  the  afternoon.  He  kept  his  word. 
At  the  appointed  time  he  approached,  leading 


tl 
ti 
b 


B  Wrapper  TIClc^^fn0 


i6i 


the  bride,  a  comely  copper-colored  dame,  at- 
tired in  her  Indian  finery.  Her  father,  mother, 
brothers  by  the  half  dozen,  and  cousins  by  the 
score,  all  followed  on  to  grace  the  ceremony, 
and  greet  the  new  and  important  relative. 

The  trapper  leceived  his  new  and  numer- 
ous family  connection  with  proper  solemnity  ; 
he  placed  his  bride  beside  him,  and,  filling  the 
pipe,  the  great  symbol  of  peace,  with  his  best 
tobacco,  took  two  or  three  whiffs,  then  handed 
it  to  the  chief,  who  transferred  it  to  the  father 
of  the  bride,  from  whom  it  was  passed  on  from 
hand  to  hand  and  mouth  to  mouth  of  the 
whole  circle  of  kinsmen  round  the  fire,  all 
maintaining  the  most  profound  and  becoming 
silence. 

After  several  pipes  had  been  filled  and  emp- 
tied 'in  this  solemn  ceremonial,  the  chief  ad- 
dressed the  bride ;  detailing  at  considerable 
length,  the  duties  of  a  wife,  which,  among 
Indians,  are  little  less  onerous  than  those  of 
the  pack-horse  ;  this  done,  he  turned  to  her 
friends,  and  congratulated  them  upon  the  great 
alliance  she  had  made.  They  showed  a  due 
sense  of  their  good  fortune,  especially  when 
the  nuptial  presents  came  to  be  distributed 
among  the  chiefs  and  relatives,  amounting  to 
about  one  hundred  and  eighty  dollars.  The 
company  soon  ipetired,  and  now  the  worthy 


VOL,  I— XI. 


1 

by 

1    t 

I    } 

!  i  ■■  ■  J 

■'■"}' 

'.1     '/■'■]: 

.1:   --M 

.Mil,    • 

i 

III 

1  '  ; .  ',  s'i;. 

j.iljl, 

• 

i  i  i  ii 

-    !                 1*  V 

j!   'if 

II  :[f;|. 

• 

1 

11; 

i6a 


X3ouncville'0  BDventuree 


trapper  found,  indeed,  that  he  had  no  green 
girl  to  deal  with ;  for  the  knowing  dame 
at  once  assumed  the  style  and  dignity  of  a 
trapper's  wife,  taking  possession  of  the  lodge 
as  her  undisputed  empire ;  arranging  every- 
thing according  to  her  own  taste  and  habitudes ; 
and  appearing  as  much  at  home,  and  on  as 
easy  terms  with  the  trapper,  as  if  they  had 
been  man  and  wife  for  years. 

We  have  already  given  a  picture,  of  a  free 
trapper  and  his  horse,  as  furnished  by  Captain 
Bonneville ;  we  shall  here  subjoin,  as  a  com- 
panion picture,  his  description  of  a  free  trap- 
per's wife,  that  the  reader  may  have  a  correct 
idea  of  the  kind  of  blessing  the  worthy  hunter 
in  question  had  invoked  to  solace  him  in  the 
wilderness. 

**  The  free  trapper,  while  a  bachelor,  has  no 
greater  pet  than  his  horse;  but  the  moment 
he  takes  a  wife  (a  sort  of  brevet  rank  in  matri- 
mony occasionally  bestowed  upon  some  Indian 
fair  one,  like  the  heroes  of  ancient  chivalry,  in 
the  open  field),  he  discovers  that  he  has  a  still 
more  fanciful  and  capricious  anintal  on  which 
to  lavish  his  expenses. 

*'  No  sooner  does  an  Indian  belle  experience 
this  promotion,  than  all  her  notions  at  once 
rise  and  expand  to  the  dignity  of  her  situation  ; 
and  the  purse  of  her  lover,  and  his  credit  into 


B  free  (lrapper'0  TKAife 


163 


the  bargain,  are  tasked  to  the  utmost  to  fit  her 
out  in  becoming  style.  The  wife  of  a  free 
trapper  to  be  equipped  and  arrayed  like  any 
ordinary  and  undistinguished  squaw  ?  Perish 
the  grovelling  thought  1  In  the  first  place, 
she  must  have  a  horse  for  her  own  riding ;  but 
no  jaded,  sorry,  earth-spirited  hack ;  such  as 
is  sometimes  assigned  by  an  Indian  husband 
for  the  transportation  of  his  squaw  and  her 
pappooses:  the  wife  of  a  firee  trapper  must 
have  the  most  beautiful  animal  she  can  lay 
her  eyes  on.  And  then,  as  to  his  decoration  : 
headstall,  breast-bands,  saddle,  and  crupper  are 
lavishly  embroidered  with  beads,  and  hung 
with  thimbles,  hawks'  bells,  and  bunches  of 
ribands.  From  each  side  of  the  saddle  hangs 
an  esquimoot^  a  sort  of  pocket,  in  which  she 
bestows  the  residue  of  her  trinkets  and  knick- 
knacks,  which  cannot  be  crowded  on  the  dec- 
oration of  her  horse  or  herself.  Over  this 
she  folds,  with  great  care,  a  drapery  of  scarlet 
and  bright-colored  calicoes,  and  now  considers 
the  caparison  of  her  steed  complete. 

**As  to  her  own  person,  she  is  even  sail 
more  extravagant.  Her  hair,  esteemed  beau- 
tiful in  proportion  to  its  length,  is  carefully 
plaited,  gnd  made  to  fall  with  seeming  negli- 
gence over  either  breast.  Her  riding  hat  is 
stuck  full  of  parti-colored  feathers ;  her  robe, 


i64 


JDonncvllIc'd  adventures 


i  'i.  / 


'\i  M 


fashioned  somewhat  after  that  of  the  whites, 
is  of  red,  green,  and  sometimes  gray  cloth,  but 
always  of  the  finest  texture  that  can  be  pro- 
cured. Her  leggins  and  moccasins  are  of  the 
most  beautiful  and  expensive  workmanship, 
and  fitted  neatly  to  the  foot  and  ankle,  which 
with  the  Indian  women  are  generally  well 
formed  and  delicate.  Then  as  to  jewelry  :  in 
the  way  of  finger-rings,  ear-rings,  necklaces, 
and  other  female  glories,  nothing  within  reach 
of  the  trapper's  means  is  omitted,  that  can  tend 
to  impress  the  beholder  with  an  idea  of  the 
lady's  high  estate.  To  finish  the  whole,  she 
selects  from  among  her  blankets  of  various 
dyes,  one  of  some  glowing  color,  and  throwing 
it  over  her  shoulders  with  a  native  grace, 
vaults  into  the  saddle  of  her  gay,  prancing 
steed,  and  is  ready  to  follow. her  mountaineer 
*  to  the  last  gasp  with  love  and  loyalty.'  " 

Such  is  the  general  picture  of  the  free  trap- 
per's wife,  given  by  Captain  Bonneville  ;  how 
far  it  applied  in  its  details  to  the  one  in  ques- 
tion does  not  altogether  appear,  though  it 
would  seem  from  the  outset  of  her  connubial 
career,  that  she  was  ready  to  avail  herself  of 
all  the  pomp  and  circumstance  of  her  new  con- 
dition. It  is  worthy  of  mention  that,  wher- 
ever there  are  several  wives  of  free  trappers 
in  a  camp,  the  keenest  rivalry  exists  between 


th 


Cbridtmad  in  tbc  TKlilDcrncdd 


26s 


them,  to  the  sore  detriment  of  their  husbands' 
purses.  Their  whole  time  is  expended,  and 
their  ingenuity  tasked  by  endeavors  to  eclipse 
each  other  in  dress  and  decoration.  The 
jealousies  and  heart-burnings  thus  occasioned 
among  these,  so  styled,  children  of  nature 
are  equally  intense  with  those  of  the  rival 
leaders  of  style  and  fashion  in  the  luxurious 
abodes  of  civilized  life. 

The  genial  festival  of  Christmas,  which 
throughout  all  Christendom  lights  up  the  fire- 
side of  home  with  mirth  and  jollity,  followed 
hard  upon  the  wedding  just  described.  Though 
far  from  kindred  and  friends.  Captain  Bonne- 
ville and  his  handful  of  free  trappers  were  not 
disposed  to  suffer  the  festival  to  pass  unen- 
joyed ;  they  were  in  a  region  of  good  cheer, 
and  were  disposed  to  be  joyous  ;  so  it  was  de- 
termined to  "light  up  the  yule  clog,"  and 
celebrate  a  merry  Christmas  in  the  heart  of  the 
wilderness. 

On  Christmas  eve,  accordingly,  they  began 
their  rude  fites  and  rejoicings.  In  the  course 
of  the  night  the  free  trappers  surrounded  the 
lodge  of  the  Pierce-Nosed  chief,  and  in  lieu  of 
Christmas  carols,  saluted  him  with  2,  feu  de 
joie, 

Kowsoter  received  it  in  a  truly  Christian 
spir't,  and  after  a  speech,   in  which  he  ex- 


rC6 


J9onneviUc'0  B^venturcs 


in 


Ml- 

I 


I  • 


:,1 


i", 


ir 


;i;i 


I: 


pressed  his  high  gratification  at  the  honor 
done  him,  invited  the  whole  company  to  a 
feast  on  the  following  day.  His  invitation 
was  gladly  accepted.  A  Christmas  dinner  in 
the  wigwam  of  an  Indian  chief !  There  was 
novelty  in  the  idea.  Not  one  failed  to  be  pres- 
ent. The  banquet  was  served  up  in  primitive 
style  :  skins  of  various  kinds,  nicely  dressed 
for  the  occasion,  were  spread  upon  the  ground  ; 
upon  these  were  heaped  up  abundance  of  veni- 
son, elk  meat,  and  mountain  mutton ;  with 
various  bitter  roots,  which  the  Indians  use  as 
condiments. 

After  a  short  prayer,  the  company  all  seated 
themselves  cross-legged,  in  Turkish  fashion, 
to  the  banquet,  which  passed  off  with  great 
hilarity.  After  which  various  games  of  strength 
and  agility,  by  both  white. men  and  Indians, 
closed  the  Christmas  festivities. 


\ 


111 


Cbapter  fit). 

A  Hnnt  after  Hunters — Hungry  Times — A  Voracious 
Repast — Wintry  Weather — Godin's  River — Splen- 
did Winter  Scene  on  the  Great  Lava  Plain  of  Snake 
River — Severe  Travelling  and  Tramping  in  the 
Snow — Manceuvres  of  a  Solitary  Indian  Horseman 
— Encampment  on  Snake  River — Banneck  Indians 
—The  Horse  Chief— His  Charmed  Life. 


THE  continued  absence  of  Matthieu  and 
his  party  had,  by  this  time,  caused  great 
uneasiness  in  the  mind  of  Captain  Bonne- 
ville; and,  finding  there  was  no  dependence 
to  be  placed  upon  the  perseverance  and  cour- 
age of  scouting  parties,  in  so  perilous  a  quest, 
he  determined  to  set  out  himself  on  the  search, 
and  to  keep  on  until  he  should  ascertain  some- 
thing of  the  object  of  his  solicitude. 

Accordingly,  on  the  26th  Deoember,  he  left 
the  camp,  accompanied  by  thirteen  stark  trap- 
pers and  hunters,  all  well  mounted  and  armed 
for  dangerous  enterprise.  On  the  following 
morning  they  passed  out  at  the  head  of  the 

X67 


i68 


JBonncvillc'd  BDventurea 


l;i 


\. 


li'i:  !'■: 
r  Hi  >;:' 

■  ,;!'   I!; 


■»l  I!: 


mountain  gorge,  and  sallied  forth  into  the 
open  plain.  As  they  confidently  expected  a 
brush  with  the  Blackieet,  or  some  other  preda- 
tory horde,  they  moved  with  great  circum- 
spection, and  kept  vigilant  watch  in  their 
encampments. 

In  the  course  of  another  day  they  left  the 
main  branch  of  Salmon  River,  and  proceeded 
south  towards  a  pass  called  John  Day's  Defile. 
It  was  severe  and  arduous  travelling.  The 
plains  were  swept  by  keen  and  bitter  blasts 
of  wintry  wind ;  the  ground  was  generally 
covered  with  snow,  game  was  scarce,  so  that 
hunger  generally  prevailed  in  the  camp,  while 
the  want  of  pasturage  soon  began  to  manifest 
itself  in  the  declining  vigor  of  the  horses. 

The  party  had  scarcely  encamped  on  the 
afternoon  of  the  28th,  when  two  of  the  hunt- 
ers who  had  sallied  forth  in  quest  of  game 
came  galloping  back  in  great  alarm.  While 
hunting  they  had  perceived  a  party  of  sav- 
ages, evidently  manoeuvring  to  cut  them  off 
from  the  camp ;  and  nothing  had  saved  them 
from  being  entrapped  but  the  speed  of  their 
horses. 

These  tidings  struck  dismay  into  the  camp. 
Captain  Bonneville  endeavored  to  reassure  his 
men  by  representing  the  position  of  their  en- 
campment, and  its  capability  of  defense.     He 


faj 
bi 


Ibungct  in  tbc  Camp 


169 


then  ordered  the  horses  to  be  driven  in  and 
picketed,  and  threw  up  a  rough  breastwork  of 
fallen  trunks  of  trees,  and  the  vegetable  rub- 
bish of  the  wilderness.  Within  this  barrier 
was  maintained  a  vigilant  watch  throughout 
the  night,  which  passed  av/ay  without  alarm. 
At  early  dawn  they  scrutinized  the  surround- 
ing plain,  to  discover  whether  any  enemies 
had  been  lurking  about  during  the  night ;  not 
a  foot-print,  however,  was  to  be  discovered  in 
the  coarse  gravel  with  which  the  plain  was 
covered. 

Hunger  now  began  to  cause  more  uneasi- 
ness than  the  apprehensions  of  surrounding 
enemies.  After  marching  a  few  miles  they 
encamped  at  the  foot  of  a  mountain,  in  hopes 
of  finding  buffalo.  It  was  not  until  the  next 
day  that  they  discovered  a  pair  of  fine  bulls 
on  the  edge  of  the  plain,  among  rocks  and 
ravines.  Having  now  been  two  days  and  a 
half  without  a  mouthful  of  food,  they  took 
especial  care  that  these  animals  should  not 
escape  them.  While  some  of  the  surest  marks- 
men advanced  cautiously  with  their  rifles  into 
the  rough  ground,  four  of  the  best  mounted 
horsemen  took  their  stations  in  the  plain,  to 
run  the  bulls  down  should  they  only  be 
maimed. 

The  buffalo  were  wounded,  and  set  off  in 


I70 


Xonncvillc*0  Bdventurc0 


Mr 


'II! 


headlong  flight.  The  half- famished  horses 
were  too  weak  to  overtake  them  on  the  frozen 
ground,  but  succeeded  in  driving  them  on  the 
ice,  where  they  slipped  and  fell,  and  were  easi- 
ly dispatched.  The  hunters  loaded  themselves 
wilh  beef  for  present  and  future  supply,  and 
then  returned  and  encamped  at  the  last  night*s 
fire.  Here  they  passed  the  remainder  of  the 
day,  cooking,  and  eating  with  a  voracity  pro- 
portioned to  previous  starvation  ;  forgetting, 
in  the  hearty  revel  of  the  moment,  the  certain 
dangers  with  which  they  were  environed. 

The  cravings  of  hunger  being  satisfied,  they 
now  began  to  debate  about  their  further  pro- 
gress. The  men  were  much  disheartened  by 
the  hardships  they  had  already  endured.  In- 
deed, two  who  had  been  in  the  rear-guard,  tak- 
ing advantage  of  their  position  had  deserted  and 
returned  to  the  lodges  of  the  Nez  Percys.  The 
prospect  ahead  was  enough  to  stagger  the 
stoutest  heart.  They  were  in  the  drad  of 
winter.  As  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  the 
wild  landscape  was  wrapped  in  snow  ;  which 
was  evidently  deepening  as  they  advanced. 
Over  this  they  would  have  to  toil  with  the  icy 
wind  blov'ing  in  their  faces ;  their  horses  might 
give  out  through  want  of  pasturage ;  and  they 
themselves  must  expect  intervals  of  horrible 
famine  like  that  they  had  already  experienced. 


'I 


I!  : 


tntcnee  ColD 


171 


With  Capt'i  Bonneville,  however,  perse- 
verance was  G  matter  of  pride ;  and  having 
undertaken  this  enterprise,  nothing  could  turn 
him  back  until  it  was  accomplished  :  though  he 
declares  that,  had  he  anticipated  the  difficul- 
ties and  sufferings  which  attended  it,  he  should 
have  flinched  from  the  undertaking 

Onward,  therefore,  the  little  band  urged 
their  way,  keeping  along  the  course  of  a 
stream  called  John  Day's  Creek.  The  cold 
was  so  intense  that  they  had  frequently  to  dis- 
mount and  travel  on  foot,  lest  they  should 
freeze  in  their  saddles.  The  days,  which,  at 
this  season,  are  vshort  enough  even  in  the  open 
prairies,  were  narrowed  to  a  few  hours  by  the 
high  mountains,  which  allowed  the  travellers 
but  a  brief  enjoyment  of  the  cheering  rays  of 
the  sun.  The  snow  was,  generally,  at  least 
twenty  inches  in  depth,  and  in  many  places 
much  more  :  those  who  dismounted  had  to  beat 
their  way  with  toilsome  steps.  Eight  miles 
were  considered  a  good  day's  journey.  The 
horses  were  almost  famished ;  for  the  herbage 
was  covered  by  the  deep  snow,  so  that  they  had 
nothing  to  subsist  upon  but  scanty  wisps  of 
the  dry  bunch  grass  which  peered  above  the 
surface,  and  the  small  branches  and  twigs  of 
frozen  willows  and  wormwood. 

In  this  way  they  urged  their  slow  and  pain- 


I!  . 


!     < 


11 


'■■'I 


ml 


It 


i  I'   ' 

IF 


272 


Xonncvil{c*B  BDventurcd 


ful  course  to  the  south  down  John  Day's  Creek, 
until  it  lost  itself  in  a  swamp.  Here  they  en- 
camped upon  the  ice  among  stiffened  willows, 
where  they  were  obliged  to  beat  down  and 
clear  away  the  snow  to  procure  pasturage  for 
their  horses. 

Hence,  they  toiled  on  to  Godin  River ;  so 
called  after  an  Iroquois  hunter  in  the  service 
of  Sublette,  who  was  murdered  there  by  the 
Blackfeet.  Many  of  the  features  of  this  remote 
wilderness  are  thus  named  after  scenes  of  vio- 
lence and  bloodshed  that  occurred  to  the  early 
pioneers.  It  was  an  act  of  filial  vengeance  on 
the  part  of  Godin's  son,  Antoine,  that,  as  the 
reader  may  recollect,  brought  on  the  recent 
battle  at  Pierre's  Hole. 

From  Godin's  River,  Captain  Bonneville 
and  his  followers  came  out  upon  the  plain  of 
the  Three  Butes ;  so  called  from  three  singular 
and  isolated  hills  that  rise  from  the  midst.  It 
is  a  part  of  the  great  desert  of  Snake  River, 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  tracts  beyond  the 
mountains.  Could  they  have  experienced  a 
respite  from  their  sufferings  and  anxieties,  the 
immense  landscape  spread  out  before  them  was 
calculated  to  inspire  admiration.  Winter  has 
its  beauties  and  glories,  as  well  as  summer  ; 
and  Captain  Bonneville  had  the  soul  to  appre- 
ciate them. 


TIQltnter  Scencri? 


173 


Far  awaj%  says  he,  over  the  vast  plains,  and 
up  the  steep  sides  of  the  lofty  mountains,  the 
snow  lay  spread  in  dazzling  whiteness :  and 
whenever  the  sun  emerged  in  the  morning 
above  the  giant  peaks,  or  burst  forth  from 
among  clouds  in  his  mid-day  course,  moun- 
tain and  dell,  glazed  rock  and  frosted  tree, 
glowed  and  sparkled  with  surpassing  lustre. 
The  tall  pines  seemed  sprinkled  with  a  silver 
dust,  and  the  willows,  studded  with  minute 
icicles  reflecting  the  prismatic  rays,  brought  to 
mind  the  fairy  trees  conjured  up  by  the  caliph's 
story-teller,  to  adorn  his  vale  of  diamonds. 

The  poor  wanderers,  however,  nearly  starved 
with  hunger  and  cold,  were  in  no  mood  to  en- 
joy the  glories  of  these  brilliant  scenes ; 
though  they  stamped  pictures  on  their  mem- 
ory which  have  been  recalled  with  delight  in 
more  genial  situations. 

Encamping  at  the  west  Bute,  they  found  a 
place  swept  by  the  winds,  so  that  it  was  bare 
of  snow,  and  there  was  abundance  of  bunch 
grass.  Here  the  horses  were  turned  loose  to 
graze  throughout  the  night.  Though  for  once 
they  had  ample  pasturage,  yet  the  keen  winds 
were  so  intense  that,  in  the  morning,  a  mule 
was  found  frozen  to  death.  The  trappers 
gathered  round  and  mourned  over  him  as  over 
a  cherished    friend.    They  feared  their  half- 


i 


•■:^ 


iiii 


'f 


ii 


ii ' ' 


■  ■  ;  I  ; 

■if.     '■ 

t  r  [    ■■: 

1 
r 

r 

K    i ' 

iSIt        :i 

^^S  I 

Si 

•*k-, 

174 


Xonncvil{c*e  BDventurcd 


famished  horses  would  soon  share  his  fate,  for 
there  seemed  scarce  blood  enough  left  in  their 
veins  to  withstand  the  freezing  cold.  To  beat 
the  way  farther  through  the  snow  with  these 
enfeebled  animals  seemed  next  to  impossible  ; 
and  despondency  began  to  creep  over  their 
hearts  when,  fortunately,  they  discovered  a 
trail  made  by  some  hunting  party.  Into  this 
they  immediately  entered,  and  proceeded  with 
less  difficulty.  Shortly  afterward,  a  fine  buffalo 
bull  came  bounding  across  the  snow,  and  was 
instantly  brought  down  by  the  hunters.  A 
fire  was  soon  blazing  and  crackling,  and  an 
ample  repast  soon  cooked,  and  sooner  dis- 
patched, after  which  they  made  some  further 
progress  and  then  encamped.  One  of  the  men 
reached  the  camp  nearly  frozen  to  death  ;  but 
good  cheer  and  a  blazing  fire  gradually  re- 
stored life,  and  put  his  blood  in  circulation. 

Having  now  a  beaten  path;  they  proceeded 
the  next  morning  with  more  facility ;  indeed 
the  snow  decreased  in  depth  as  they  receded 
from  the  mountains,  and  the  temperature  be- 
came more  mild.  In  the  course  of  the  day, 
they  discovered  a  solitary  horseman  hovering 
at  a  distance  before  them  on  the  plain.  They 
spurred  on  to  overtake  him  ;  but  he  was  better 
mounted  on  a  fresher  steed,  and  kept  at  a  wary 
distance,  reconnoitring  them  with  evident  dis- 


B  'MtlD  t>or0cman 


175 


trust ;  the  wild  dress  of  the  free  trappers,  their 
legg^ns,  blanket,  and  cloth  caps  garnished 
with  fur  and  topped  off  with  feathers,  even 
their  very  elf-locks  and  weather-bronz  >d  com- 
plexions, gave  them  the  look  of  Indians  rather 
than  white  men,  and  made  him  mistake  them 
for  a  war  party  of  some  hostile  tribe. 

After  much  manoeuvring,  the  wild  horseman 
was  at  length  brought  to  a  parley  ;  but  even 
then  he  conducted  himself  with  the  caution  of 
a  knowing  prowler  of  the  prairies.  Dismount- 
ing from  his  horse,  and  using  him  as  a  breast- 
work, he  levelled  his  gun  across  his  back,  and, 
thus  prepared  for  defense  like  a  wary  cruiser 
upon  the  high  seas,  he  permitted  himself  to  be 
approached  within  speaking  distance. 

He  proved  to  be  an  Indian  of  the  Banneck 
tribe,  belonging  to  a  band  at  no  great  distance. 
It  was  some  time  before  he  could  be  persuaded 
that  he  was  conversing  with  a  party  of  white 
men,  and  induced  to  lay  aside  his  reserve  and 
join  them.  He  then  gave  them  the  interesting 
intelligence,  that  there  were  two  companies  of 
white  men  encamped  in  the  neighborhood.  This 
was  cheering  news  to  Captain  Bonneville ;  who 
hoped  to  find  in  one  of  them  the  long-sought 
party  of  Matthieu.  Pushing  forward,  therefore, 
with  renovated  spirits,  he  reached  Snake  River 
by  nightfall,  and  there  fixed  his  encampment. 


176 


Xow\cvHlc*B  Bdventurc0 


•  i 


rM 


t)   ' 


'*i 


1 1 


iMt 


Early  the  next  morning  (13th  January,  1833), 
diligent  search  was  made  about  the  neighbor- 
hood for  traces  of  the  reported  parties  of  white 
men.  An  encampment  was  soon  discovered, 
about  four  miles  farther  up  the  river ;  in  which 
Captain  Bonneville,  to  his  great  joy,  found 
two  of  Matthieu's  men,  from  whom  he  learnt 
that  the  rest  of  his  party  would  be  there  in  the 
course  of  a  few  days.  It  was  a  matter  of  great 
pride  and  self-congratulation  to  Captain  Bon- 
neville, that  he  had  thus  accomplished  his 
dreary  and  doubtful  enterprise  ;  and  he  deter- 
mined to  pass  some  time  in  this  encampment, 
both  to  wait  the  return  of  Matthieu,  and  to 
give  needful  repose  to  men  and  horses. 

It  was,  in  fact,  one  of  the  most  eligible  and 
delightful  wintering  grounds  in  that  whole 
range  of  country.  The  Snake  River  here 
wound  its  devious  way  between  low  banks 
through  the  great  plain  of  the  Three  Butes ; 
and  was  bordered  by  wide  and  fertile  meadows. 
It  was  studded  with  islands,  which,  like  the 
alluvial  bottoms,  were  covered  with  groves  of 
cotton-wood,  thickets  of  willow,  tracts  of  good 
lowland  grass,  and  abundance  of  green  rushes. 
The  adjacent  plains  were  so  vast  in  extent, 
that  no  single  band  of  Indians  could  drive  the 
buffalo  out  of  them ;  nor  was  the  snow  of 
sufficient  depth   to  give   any  serious  incon- 


Bncampmcnt  on  Snade  Vivcv 


177 


venience.  Indeed,  during  the  sojourn  of  Cap- 
tain Bonneville  in  this  neighborhood,  which 
was  in  the  heart  of  winter,  he  found  the 
weather,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  cold  and 
stormy  days,  generally  mild  and  pleasant ; 
freezing  a  little  at  night,  but  invariably  thaw- 
ing with  the  morning's  sun — resembling  the 
spring  weather  in  the  middle  parts  of  the 
United  States. 

The  lofty  range  of  the  Three  Tetonj,  those 
great  landmarks  of  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
rising  in  the  east,  and  circling  away  to  the 
north  and  west  of  the  great  plain  of  Snake 
River ;  and  the  mountains  of  Salt  Eiver  and 
Portneuf  towards  the  south,  catch  the  earliest 
falls  of  snow.  Their  white  robes  lengthen  as 
the  winter  advances,  and  spread  themselves 
far  into  the  plain,  driving  the  buffalo  in  herds 
to  the  banks  of  the  river  in  quest  of  food ; 
where  they  are  easily  slain  in  great  numbers. 

Such  were  the  palpable  advantages  of  this 
winter  encampment ;  added  to  which,  it  was 
secure  from  the  prov/lings  and  plunderings  of 
any  petty  band  of  roving  Blackfeet ;  the  diffi^ 
culties  of  retreat  rendering  it  unwise  for  those 
crafty  depredators  to  venture  an  attack,  unless 
with  an  overpowering  force. 

About  ten  miles  below  the  encampment  lay 
the  Banneck  Indians ;  numbering  about  one 


VOL.  I.— la 


178 


JSonncviIle'0  BOventurcd 


I  :■■ 


i  I 


hundred  and  twenty  lodges.  They  are  brave 
and  cunning  warriors,  and  deadly  foes  of  the 
Blackfeet,  whom  they  easily  overcome  in  bat- 
tles where  their  forces  are  equal.  They  are 
not  vengeful  and  enterprising  in  warfare,  how- 
ever ;  seldom  sending  war  parties  to  attack 
the  Blackfeet  towns,  but  contenting  themselves 
with  defending  their  own  territories  and  house. 
About  one  third  of  their  warriors  are  armed 
with  fusees  ;  the  rest  with  bows  and  arrows. 

As  soon  as  the  spring  opens,  they  move 
down  the  right  bank  of  Snake  River,  and  en- 
camp at  the  heads  of  the  Bois^e  and  Payette. 
Here  their  horses  wax  fat  on  good  pasturage, 
while  the  tribe  revels  in  plenty  upon  the  flesh 
of  deer,  elk,  bear,  and  beaver.  They  then  de- 
scend a  little  farther,  and  are  met  by  the  I/)wer 
Nez  Percys,  with  whom  they  trade  for  horses  ; 
giving  in  exchange  beaver,  buffalo,  and  buffalo 
robes.  Hence  they  strike  upon  the  tributary 
streams  on  the  left  bank  of  Snake  River,  and 
encamp  at  the  rise  of  the  Portneuf  and  Black- 
foot  streams,  in  the  buffalo  range.  Their 
horses,  although  of  the  Nez  Percd  breed,  are 
inferior  to  the  parent  stock,  from  being  ridden 
at  too  early  an  age  ;  being  often  bought  when 
but  two  years  old,  and  immediately  put  to 
hard  work.  They  have  fewer  horses,  also, 
than  most  of  these  migratory  tribes. 


Zbc  tyovBc  Cbict 


179 


At  the  time  that  Captain  Bonneville  came 
into  the  neighborhood  of  these  Indians,  they 
were  all  in  mourning  for  their  chief,  sumamed 
The  Horse.  This  chief  was  said  to  possess  a 
charmed  life,  or  rather,  to  be  invulnerable  to 
lead  ;  no  bullet  having  ever  hit  him,  though 
he  had  been  in  repeated  battles,  and  often  shot 
at  by  the  surest  marksmen.  He  had  shown 
great  magnanimity  in  his  intercourse  with  the 
white  men.  One  of  the  great  men  of  his 
family  had  been  slain  in  an  attack  upon  a  band 
of  trappers  passing  through  the  territories  of 
his  tribe.  Vengeance  had  been  sworn  by  the 
Bannecks ;  but  The  Horse  interfered,  declar- 
ing himself  the  friend  of  white  men,  and,  hav- 
ing great  influence  and  authority  among  his 
people,  he  compelled  them  to  forego  all  vin- 
dictive plans,  and  to  conduct  themselves  ami- 
cably whenever  they  came  in  contact  with  the 
traders. 

This  chief  had  bravely  fallen  in  resisting  an 
attack  made  by  the  Blackfeet  upon  his  tribe, 
while  encamped  at  the  head  of  the  Godin  River. 
His  fall  in  nowise  lessened  the  faith  of  his 
people  in  his  charmed  life ;  for  they  declared 
that  it  was  not  a  bullet  which  laid  him  lov/, 
but  a  bit  of  horn  which  had  been  shot  into  him 
by  some  Blackfoot  marksman  ;  aware  no  doubt, 
of  the  inefficiency  of  lead.     Since  his  death, 


II  I 


I  \' 


i8o 


J8oniievtUc'0  BDventurc0 


there  was  no  one  with  sufficient  influence  over 
the  tribe  to  restrain  the  wild  and  predatory 
propensities  of  the  young  men.  The  conse- 
quence was,  they  had  become  troublesome  and 
dangerous  neighbors ;  openly  friendly,  for  the 
sake  of  traffic,  but  disposed  to  commit  secret 
depredations,  and  to  molest  any  small  party 
that  might  fall  within  their  reach. 


I!  I  =■' 


i^! 

IN: 
11  "  i 

' 

'1     , 

'r  ■ 

Cbapter  ixn. 

Misadvet^tures  of  Matthieu  and  his  Party — Return  to 
itio  Caches  at  Salmon  River — Battle  between  Nez 
Percys  and  Blackfeet — Heroism  of  a  Nez  I'^rc^ 
>Voman — Enrolled  among  the  Braves. 


ON  the  3d  of  February,  Matthieu,  with 
the  residue  of  his  band,  arrived  in 
camp.  He  had  a  disastrous  story  to 
relate.  After  parting  with  Captain  Bonneville 
in  Green  River  Valley,  he  had  proceeded  to 
the  westward,  keeping  to  the  north  of  the  Eu- 
taw  Mountains,  a  spur  of  the  great  Rocky 
chain.  Here  he  experienced  the  most  rugged 
travelling  for  his  horses,  and  soon  discovered 
that  there  was  but  little  chance  of  meeting  the 
Shoshonie  bands.  He  now  proceeded  along 
Bear  River,  a  stream  much  frequented  by  trap- 
pers ;  intending  to  shape  his  course  to  Salmon 
River,  to  rejoin  Captain  Bonneville. 

He  was  misled,  however,  either  through  the 
ignorance  or  treachery  of  an  Indian  guide,  and 

181 


%2 


JSonnevlIle'd  BDventuree 


!  it 


^ 


i{:       > 


conducted  into  a  "v\^ild  valley,  where  he  lay- 
encamped  during  the  autumn  and  the  early 
part  of  the  winter,  nearly  buried  in  snow,  and 
almost  starved.  Early  in  the  season  he  de- 
tached five  men,  with  nine  horses,  to  proceed 
to  the  neighborhood  of  Sheep  Rock,  on  Bear 
River,  wh  re  game  was  plenty,  and  there  to 
procure  a  supply  for  the  camp.  They  had  not 
proceeded  far  on  their  expedition,  when  their 
trail  was  discovered  by  a  party  of  nine  or  ten 
Indians,  who  immediately  commenced  a  lurk- 
ing pursuit,  dogging  them  secretly  for  five  or 
six  days.  So  long  as  their  encampments  were 
well  chosen,  and  a  proper  watch  maintained, 
the  wary  savages  kept  aloof;  at  length,  observ- 
ing that  they  were  badly  encr.mped,  in  a  situa- 
tion where  they  might  be  approached  with 
secrecy,  the  enemy  crept  stealthily  along  under 
cover  of  the  river  bank,  preparing  to  burst 
suddenly  upon  their  prey. 

Thfey  had  not  advanced  within  striking  dis- 
tance, however,  before  they  were  discovered  by 
one  of  the  trappers.  He  immediately,  but 
silently,  gave  the  alarm  to  his  companions. 
They  all  sprang  upon  their  horses,  and  pre- 
pared to  retreat  to  a  safe  position.  One  of  the 
party,  however,  iiamed  Jennings,  doubted  the 
correctness  of  the  alarm,  and  before  he  mounted 
his  horse,  wanted  to  ascertain  the  fact.     His 


JCncountcr  witb  Indians 


183 


companions  urged  him  to  mount,  but  in  vain  ; 
he  was  incredulous  and  obstinate.  A  volley 
of  fire-arms  by  the  savages  dispelled  his  doubts, 
but  so  overpowered  his  nerves  that  he  was 
unable  to  get  into  his  saddle.  His  comrades, 
seeing  his  peril  and  confusion,  generously  leapt 
from  their  horses  to  protect  hira.  A  shot  from 
a  rifle  brought  him  to  the  earth  ;  in  his  agony 
he  called  upon  the  others  not  to  desert  him. 
Two  of  them,  I^e  Roy  and  Ross,  after  fighting 
desperately,  were  captured  by  the  savages ;  the 
remaining  two  vaulted  into  their  saddles,  and 
saved  themselves  by  headlong  flight,  being 
pursued  for  nearly  thirty  miles.  They  got  safe 
back  to  Matthieu's  camp^  where  their  story  in- 
spired such  dread  of  lurking  Indians,  that  the 
hunters  could  not  be  prevailed  upon  to  under- 
take another  foray  in  quest  of  provisions. 
They  remained,  therefore,  almost  starving  in 
their  camp  ;  now  and  then  killing  an  old  or 
disabled  horse  for  food,  while  the  elk  and  the 
mountain  sheep  roamed  unmolested  among  the 
surrounding  mountains. 

The  disastrous  surprisal  of  this  hunting 
party  is  cited  by  Captain  Bonneville  to  show 
the  importance  of  vigilant  watching  and  judi- 
cious encampments  in  the  Indian  country. 
Most  of  this  kind  of  disasters  to  traders  and 
trappers  arise  from  some  careless  inattention 


: 


iiil 


!i;l 


illi 


f" 


184 


JSonneville'd  Bdvcnturcd 


to  the  state  of  their  arms  and  ammunition,  the 
placing  of  their  horses  at  night,  the  position 
of  their  camping  ground,  and  the  posting  of 
their  night  watches.  The  Indian  is  a  vigilant 
and  crafty  foe ;  by  no  means  given  to  hare- 
brained assaults ;  he  seldom  attacks  when  he 
finds  his  foe  well  prepared  and  on  the  alert. 
Caution  is  at  least  as  efficacious  a  protection 
against  him  as  courage. 

The  Indians  who  made  this  attack  were  at 
first  supposed  to  be  Blackfeet ;  until  Captain 
Bonneville  found,  subsequently,  in  the  camp 
of  the  Bannecks,  a  horse,  saddle,  and  bridle, 
which  he  recognized  as  having  belonged  to 
one  of  the  hunters.  The  Bannecks,  however, 
stoutly  denied  'having  taken  these  spoils  in 
fight,  and  persisted  in  affirming  that  the  out- 
rage had  been  perpetrated  by  a  Blackfoot  band. 

Captain  Bonneville  remained  on  Snake  River 
nearly  three  weeks  after  the  arrival  of  Matthieu 
and  his  party.  At  length  his  horses  hT-ving 
recovered  strength  sufficient  for  a  journey,  he 
prepared  to  return  to  the  Nez  Percys,  or  rather 
to  visit  his  caches  on  Salmon  River ;  that  he 
might  take  thence  goods  and  equipments  for 
the  opening  of  the  season.  Accordingly,  leav- 
ing sixteen  men  at  Snake  River,  he  set  out  on 
the  19th  of  February,  with  sixteen  others,  on 
his  journey  to  the  caches.  \ 


f)arD6bipd  ot  tbe  Aarcb 


185 


x^ording  the  river,  he  proceeded  to  the  bor- 
ders of  the  deep  snow,  when  he  encamped  under 
the  lee  of  immense  piles  of  burnt  rock.  On  the 
2ist  he  was  again  floundering  through  the 
snow,  on  the  great  Snake  River  plain,  where 
it  lay  to  the  depth  of  thirty  inches.  It  was 
sufficiently  incrusted  to  bear  a  pedestrian  ;  but 
the  poor  horses  broke  through  the  crust,  and 
plunged  and  strained  at  every  step.  So  lacer- 
ated were  they  by  the  ice,  that  it  was  necessary 
"to  change  the  front  every  hundred  yards,  and 
put  a  different  one  in  the  advance,  to  break 
the  way.  The  open  prairies  were  swept  by  a 
piercing  and  biting  wind  from  the  northwest. 
At  night,  they  had  to  task  their  ingenuity  to 
provide  shelter  and  keep  from  freezing.  In 
the  first  place,  they  dug  deep  holes  in  the  snow, 
piling  it  up  in  ramparts  to  windward,  as  a  pro- 
tection against  the  blast.  Beneath  these,  they 
spread  buffalo  skins ;  upon  which  they 
stretched  themselves  in  full  dress,  with  caps, 
cloaks,  and  moccasins,  and  covered  themselves 
with  numerous  blankets  ;  notwithstanding  all 
which,  they  were  often  severely  pinched  with 
the  cold. 

On  the  28th  of  February,  they  arrived  on  the 
banks  of  Godin  River.  This  stream  emerges 
from  the  mountains  opposite  an  eastern  branch 
of  the  Malade  River,  running  southeast,  forms 


Hi 

ft:' 


i;p 


m 


1    !• 

'1 

1  > 

■  '    '  ' 

:< 

■ 

: 

■i 

^  '■ 

ii 

^  ii ''.'I 

!■* 

1' 

■:■:  '•'' 

ii 

':\' 

1 

i   'I 


1 86 


JBonneville'd  BDventurcs 


a  deep  and  swift  current  about  twenty  yards 
wJde,  passing  rapidly  through  a  defile  to  which 
it  gives  its  name,  and  then  enters  the  great 
plain,  where,  after  meandering  about  forty 
miles,  it  is  finally  lost  in  the  region  of  the 
Burnt  Rocks. 

On  the  banks  of  this  river.  Captain  Bonne- 
ville was  so  fortunate  as  to  come  upon  a  buffalo 
trail.  Following  it  up,  he  entered  the  defile, 
where  he  remained  encamped  for  two  days,  to 
allow  the  hunters  time  to  kill  and  dry  a  supply 
of  buffalo  beef.  In  this  sheltered  defile,  the 
weather  was  moderate,  and  grass  was  already 
sprouting  more  than  an  inch  in  height.  There 
was  abundance,  too,  of  the  salt  weed  ;  which 
grows  most  i^lentiful  in  clayey  and  gravelly 
barrens.  It  resembles  pennyroyal,  and  derives 
its  name  from  a  partial  saltness.  It  is  a  nour- 
ishing food  for  the  horses  in  the  winter,  but 
they  reject  it  the  moment  the  young  grass 
affords  sufficient  pasttirage. 

On  the  6th  of  March,  having  cured  sufficient 
meat,  the  party  resumed  their  march,  and 
moved  on  with  comparative  ease,  excepting 
where  they  had  to  make  their  way  through 
snow-drifts  which  had  been  piled  up  by  the 
wind. 

On  the  nth,  a  small  cloud  of  smoke  was 
observed  rising  in  a  deep  part  of  the  defile. 


■I   ! 


JCIacUfcot  Bmbudca^c 


187 


An  encampment  was  instantly  formed,  and 
scouts  were  sent  out  to  reconnoitre.  They  re- 
turned with  intelligence  that  it  was  a  hunting 
party  of  Flatheads,  returning  from  the  buffalo 
range  laden  with  meat.  Captain  Bonneville 
joined  them  the  next  day,  and  persuaded  them 
to  proceed  with  his  party  a  few  miles  below,  to 
the  -caches,  whither  he  proposed  also  to  invite 
the  Nez  Perces,  whom  he  hoped  to  find  some- 
where in  this  neighborhood.  In  fact,  on  the 
13th,  he  was  rejoined  by  that  friendly  tribe,  v;ho, 
since  he  separated  from  them  on  Salmon  River, 
had  likewise  been  out  to  hunt  the  buffalo,  but 
had  continued  to  be  haunted  and  harassed  by 
their  old  enemies  the  Blackfeet,  who,  as  usual, 
had  contrived  to  carry  off  many  of  their  horses. 
In  the  course  of  this  hunting  expedition,  a 
small  band  of  ten  lodges  separated  from  the 
main  body,  in  search  of  better  pasturage  for 
their  horses.  About  the  ist  of  March,  the 
scattered  parties  of  Blackfoot  banditti  united 
to  the  number  of  three  hundred  fighting  men, 
and  determined  upon  some  signal  blow.  Pro- 
ceeding to  the  former  camping  ground  of  the 
Nez  Perc6s,  they  found  the  lodges  deserted; 
upon  which,  they  hid  themselves  among  the 
willows  and  thickets,  watching  for  some  strag- 
gler, who  might  g^ide  them  to  the  present 
•  *  whereabout "  of  their  intended  victims.     As 


rV 


'i. 


ii'i^ 


!  r. 
Ill' 


iti!      I 


m 

1    ;l 


I 


1 88 


Xonncvi\\c*6  B^vcntures 


fortune  would  have  it,  Kosato,  the  Blackfoot 
renegade,  was  the  first  to  pass  along,  accom- 
panied by  his  blood-bought  bride.  He  was  on 
his  way  from  the  main  body  of  hunters  to  the 
little  band  of  cen  lodges.  The  Blackfeet  knew 
and  marked  him  as  he  passed  ;  he  was  within 
bow-shot  of  their  ambuscade ;  yet,  much  as 
they  thirsted  for  his  blood,  they  forbore,  to 
launch  a  shaft ;  sparing  him  for  the  moment, 
that  he  might  lead  them  to  their  prey.  Sepretly 
following  his  trail,  they  discovered  the  lodges 
of  the  unfortunate  Nez  Percys,  and  assailed 
them  with  shouts  and  yellings.  The  Nez 
Percys  numbered  only  twenty  men,  and  but 
nine  were  armed  with  fusees.  They  showed 
themselves,  however,  as  brave  and  skilful  in 
war  as  they  had  been  mild  and  long-suflfering  in 
peace.  Their  first  care  was  to  dig  holes  inside 
of  their  lodges ;  thus  ensconced,  they  fought 
desperately,  laying  several  of  the  enemy  dead 
upon  the  ground  ;  while  they,  though  some  of 
them  were  wounded,  lost  not  a  single  warrior. 

During  the  heat  of  the  battle,  a  woman  of 
the  Nez  Percys,  seeing  her  warrior  badly 
wounded  and  unable  to  fight,  seized  his  bow 
and  arrows,  and  bravely  and  successfully  de- 
fended his  person,  contributing  to  the  safety 
of  the  whole  party. 

In  another  part  of  the  field  of  action,  a  Nez 


Sttacd  on  tbe  Des  pcxcie 


189 


Perc^  had  crouched  behind  the  trunk  of  a  fallen 
tree,  and  kept  up  a  galling  fire  from  his  covert. 
A  Blackfoot  seeing  this,  procured  a  round  log, 
and  placing  it  before  him  as  he  lay  prostrate, 
rolled  it  forward  towards  the  trunk  of  the  tree 
behind  which  his  enemy  lay  crouched.  It  was 
a  moment  of  breathless  interest :  whoever  first 
showed  himself  would  be  in  danger  of  a  shot. 
The  Nez  Perc^  put  an  end  to  the  suspense. 
The  moment  the  logs  touched,  he  sprang  upon 
his  feet,  and  discharged  the  contents  of  his 
fusee  into  the  back  of  his  antagonist.  By  this 
time,  the  Blackfeet  had  got  possession  of  the 
horses  ;  several  of  their  warriors  lay  dead  on 
the  field,  and  the  Nez  Percys,  ensconced  in 
their  lodges,  seemed  resolved  to  defend  them- 
selves to  the  last  gasp.  It  so  happened  that 
the  chief  of  the  Blackfeet  party  was  a  renegade 
from  the  Nez  Percys  :  unlike  Kosato,  however, 
he  had  no  vindictive  rage  against  his  native 
tribe,  but  was  rather  disposed,  now  he  had  got 
the  booty,  to  spare  all  unnecessary  effusion  of 
blood.  He  had  a  long  parley,  therefore,  with 
the  besieged,  and  finally  drew  off  his  warriors, 
taking  with  him  seventy  horses.  It  appeared, 
afterwards,  that  the  bullets  of  the  Blackfeet  had 
been  entirely  expended  in  the  course  of  the 
battle,  so  that  they  were  obliged  to  make  use 
of  stones  as  substitutes. 


].'i 


•IM 


•it 
4* 


I 


f'l 


n.(l 


!'  ( 


190 


Xonncvilic*6  BOt^cuturcd 


At  the  outset  of  the  fight,  Kosato,  the  rene- 
gade, fought  with  fury  rather  than  valor  :  ani- 
mating the  others  by  word  as  well  as  deed.  A 
wound  in  the  head  from  a  rifle  ball  laid  him 
senseless  on  the  earth.  There  his  body  re- 
mained when  the  battle  was  over,  and  the 
victors  were  leading  off"  the  horses.  His  wife 
hung  over  him  with  frantic  lamentations.  The 
conquerors  paused  and  urged  her  to  leave  the 
lifeless  renegade,  and  return  with  them  to  her 
kindred.  She  refused  to  listen  to  their  solicita- 
tions, and  they  passed  on.  As  she  sat  watch- 
ing the  features  of  Kosato,  and  giving  way  to 
passionate  grief,  she  thought  she  perceived 
him  to  breathe.  She  was  not  mistaken.  The 
ball,  which  had  been  nearly  spent  before  it 
vStruck  him,  had  stunned  instead  of  killing 
him.  By  the  ministry  of  his  faithful  wife,  he 
gradually  recovered ;  reviving  to  a  redoubled 
love  for  her,  and  hatred  of  his  tribe. 

As  to  the  female  who  had  so  bravely  de- 
fended her  husband,. she  was  elevated  by  the 
tribe  to  a  rank  far  above  her  sex,  and,  beside 
other  honorable  distinctions,  was  thenceforward 
permitted  to  take  a  part  in  the  war-dances  of 
the  braves  ! 


'J  m 


Cbaptct  f  IDf  f  ♦ 

opening  of  the  Caches — Detachment  of  Cerr^  and 
Hodgkiss — Salmon  River  Mountains — Superstition 
of  an  Indian  Trapper — Godin's  River — Preparations 
for  Trappings — An  Alarm — An  Interruption — A  Ri- 
val Band — Phenomena  of  Snake  River  Plain — Vast 
Clefts  and  Chasms — Ingulfed  Streams — Sublime 
Scenery — A  Grand  Buffalo  Hunt. 

CAPTAIN  BONNEVILLE  found  his 
caches  perfectly  secure,  and  having 
secretly  opened  them,  he  selected  such 
articles  as  were  necessary  to  equip  the  free  trap- 
pers, and  to  supply  the  inconsiderable  trade 
with  the  Indians,  after  which  he  closed  them 
again.  The  free  trappers,  being  newly  rigged 
out  and  supplied,  were  in  high  spirits,  and 
swaggered  gayly  about  the  camp.  To  com- 
pensate all  hands  for  past  sufferings,  and  to 
give  a  cheerful  spur  to  further  operations.  Cap- 
tain Bonneville  now  gave  the  men  what,  in 
frontier  phrase,  is  termed  "  a  regular  blow 
out.**     It  was  a  day  of  uncouth  gambols  and 


I 

i  ) 
t 


■:iv 


§■ 


M'! 


^i 


»     '[^ 


I9t 


JSonneviUe'0  BDventures 


frolics,  and  rude  feasting.  The  Indians  joined 
in  the  sports  and  games,  and  all  was  mirth  and 
good  fellowship. 

It  was  now  the  middle  of  March,  and  Cap- 
tain Bonneville  made  preparations  to  open  the 
spring  campaign.  He  had  pitched  upon  Ma- 
lade  River  for  his  main  trapping  ground  for  the 
season.  This  is  a  stream  which  rises  among 
the  great  bed  of  mountains  north  of  the  lava 
plain,  and,  after  a  winding  course,  falls  into 
Snake  River.  Previous  to  his  departure,  the 
captain  dispatched  Mr.  Cerr^,  with  a  fev; 
men,  to  visit  the  Indian  villages  and  purchase 
horses  ;  he  furnished  his  clerk,  Mr.  Hodgkiss, 
also  with  a  small  stock  of  goods,  to  keep  up  a 
trade  with  the  Indians  during  the  spring,  for 
such  peltries  as  they  might  collect,  appointing 
the  caches  on  Salmon  River  a?  thf;  point  of 
rendezvous,  where  they  were  to  rejoin  him  on 
the  15th  of  June  following. 

This  done,  he  set  out  for  Malade  River  with 
a  band  of  twenty-eight  men,  composed  of  hired 
and  free  trappers  and  Indian  hunters,  together 
with  eight  squaws.  Their  route  lay  up  along 
the  right  fork  of  Salmon  River,  as  it  passes 
through  the  deep  defile  of  the  mountains. 
They  travelled  very  slowly,  not  above  five 
miles  a  day,  for  many  of  the  horses  were  so 
weak  that  they  faltered  and  staggered  as  they 


In^tan  SuperdtUton 


«^ 


walked.  Pasturage,  however,  was  now  grow- 
ing plentiful.  There  was  abundance  of  fresh 
grass,  which  in  some  places  had  attained  such 
height  as  to  wave  in  the  wind.  The  native 
flocks  of  the  wilderness,  the  mountain  sheep, 
as  they  are  called  by  the  trappers,  were  con- 
tinually to  be  seen  upon  the  hills  between 
which  they  passed,  and  a  good  supply  of  mut- 
ton was  provided  by  the  hunters,  as  they  were 
advancing  towards  a  region  of  scarcity. 

In  the  course  of  his  journey,  Captain  Bonne- 
ville had  occasion  to  remark  an  instance  of  the 
many  notions,  and  almost  superstitions,  which 
prevail  among  the  Indians,  and  among  some 
of  the  white  men,  with  respect  to  the  sagacity 
of  the  beaver.  The  Indian  hunters  of  his 
party  were  in  the  habit  of  exploring  all  the 
streams  along  which  they  passed,  in  search  of 
"beaver  lodges,"  and  occasionally  set  their 
traps  with  some  success.  One  of  them,  how- 
ever, though  an  experienced  and  skilful  trap- 
per, w^as  invariably  unsuccessful.  Astonished 
and  mortified  at  such  unusual  bad  luck,  he  at 
length  conceived  the  idea,  that  there  was  some 
odor  about  his  person,  of  w^hich  the  beaver  got 
scent,  and  retreated  at  his  approach.  He  im- 
mediately set  about  a  thorough  purification. 
Making  a  rude  sweating  house  on  the  banks 
of  the  river,  he  would  shut  himself  up  until  in 

VOL.  I.— 13 


'94 


JSonneviUc'e  Bdventuree 


i-'  " 


iji 


I 


:li 


a  reeking  perspiration,  and  then  suddenly 
emerging,  would  plunge  into  the  river.  A 
number  of  these  sweatings  and  plungings  hav- 
ing, as  he  supposed,  rendered  his  person  per- 
fectly "inodorous,"  he  resumed  his  trapping 
with  renovated  hope. 

About  the  beginning  of  April,  they  encamped 
upon  Godin's  River,  where  they  found  the 
swamp  full  of  *  *  muskrat  houses. ' '  Here, 
therefore.  Captain  Bonneville  determined  to 
remain  a  few  days  and  make  his  first  regular 
attempt  at  trapping.  That  his  maiden  cam- 
paign might  open  with  spirit,  he  promised  the 
Indians  and  free  trappers  an  extra  price  for 
every  muskrat  they  should  take.  All  now  set 
to  work  for  the  next  day's  sport.  The  utmost 
animation  and  gayety  prevailed  throughout 
the  camp.  Everything  looked  auspicious  for 
their  spring  campaign.  The  abundance  of 
muskrats  in  the  swamp  was  but  an  earnest 
of  the  nobler  game  they  were  to  find  when 
they  should  reach  the  Malade  River,  and  have 
a  capital  beaver  country  all  to  themselves, 
where  they  might  trap  at  their  leisure  without 
molestation. 

In  the  midst  of  their  gayety,  a  hunter  came 
galloping  into  the  camp,  shouting,  or  rather 
yelling,  "  A  trail !  a  trail ! — lodge  poles  !  lodge 
poles!'* 


IRival  (Trappers 


195 


These  were  words  full  of  meaning  to  a  trn]>- 
jxjr's  ear.  The>  iiitimated  that  there  was  some 
])and  in  the  neighborhood,  and  probably  a 
hunting  party,  as  they  had  lodge  poles  for  an 
encampment.  The  hunter  came  up  and  told 
his  story.  He  had  discovered  a  fresh  trail, 
in  which  the  traces  made  by  the  dragging  of 
lodge  poles  were  distinctly  visible.  The  buf- 
falo, too,  had  just  been  driven  out  of  the 
nefghborhood,  which  showed  that  the  hunters 
had  already  been  on  the  range. 

The  gayety  of  the  camp  was  at  an  end  ;  all 
preparations  for  muskrat  trapping  were  sus- 
pended, and  all  hands  sallied  forth  to  examine 
the  trail.  Their  worst  fears  were  soon  con- 
firmed. Infallible  signs  showed  the  unknown 
party  in  the  advance  to  be  white  men  ;  doubt- 
less, some  rival  band  of  trappers !  Here  was 
competition  when  least  expected  ;  and  that, 
too,  by  a  party  already  in  the  advance,  who 
were  driving  the  game  before  them.  Captain 
Bonneville  had  now  a  taste  of  the  sudden 
transitions  to  which  a  trapper's  life  is  subject. 
The  buoyant  confidence  in  an  uninterrupted 
hunt  was  at  an  end ;  every  countenance  low- 
ered with  gloom  and  disappointment. 

Captain  Bonneville  immediately  dispatched 
two  spies  to  overtake  the  rival  party,  and  en- 
deavor to  learn  their  plans  ;  in  the  meantime, 


196 


XonncvilWe  Bdventurea 


Uji 


:i 


he  turned  his  back  upon  the  swamp  and  its 
muskrat  houses,  and  followed  on  at  "long 
camps,"  which,  in  trapper's  language,  is 
equivalent  to  long  stages.  On  the  6th  of 
April,  he  met  his  spies  returning.  They  had 
kept  on  the  trail  like  hounds,  until  they  over- 
took the  party  at  the  south  end  of  Godin's 
Defile.  Here  they  found  them  comfortably 
encamped,  twenty-two  prime  trappers,  all  well 
appointed,  with  excellent  horses  in  capital 
condition,  led  by  Milton  Sublette  and  an  able 
coadjutor,  named  Jarvie,  and  in  full  march  for 
the  Malade  hunting  ground. 

This  was  stunning  news.  The  Malade  River 
was  the  only  trapping  ground  within  reach  ; 
but  to  have  to  compete  there  with  veteran 
trappers,  perfectly  at  home  among  the  moun- 
tains, and  admirably  mounted,  while  they 
were  so  poorly  provided  with  horses  and  trap- 
pers, and  had  but  one  man  in  their  party  ac- 
quainted with  the  country — it  was  out  of  the 
question  ! 

The  only  hope  that  now  remained,  was  that 
the  snow,  which  still  lay  deep  among  the  moun- 
tains of  Godin  River,  and  blocked  up  the  usual 
pass  to  the  Malade  country^  might  detain  the 
other  party,  until  Captain  Bonneville's  horses 
should  get  once  more  into  good  condition  in 
their  present  ample  pasturage. 


\v 


Snahe  IRivct  plain 


197 


IS 


The  rival  parties  now  encamped  together, 
not  out  of  companionship,  but  to  keep  an  eye 
upon  each  other.  Day  after  day  passed  by, 
without  any  possibility  of  getting  to  the  Ma- 
lade  country.  Sublette  and  Jarvie  endeavored 
to  force  their  way  across  the  mountain ;  but 
the  snows  lay  so  deep  as  to  oblige  them  to  turn 
back.  In  the  m^^antime,  the  captain's  horses 
were  daily  gaining  strength,  and  their  hoofs 
improving,  which  had  been  worn  and  battered 
by  mountain  service.  The  captain,  also,  was 
increasing  his  stock  of  provisions,  so  that  the 
delay  was  all  in  his  favor. 

To  any  one  who  merely  contemplates  a  map 
of  the  country,  this  difficulty  of  getting  from 
Godin  to  Malade  River  will  appear  inexplica- 
ble, as  the  intervening  mountains  terminate  in 
the  great  Snake  River  plain,  so  that,  appar- 
ently, it  would  be  perfectly  easy  to  proceed 
round  their  bases. 

Here,  however,  occur  some  of  the  striking 
phenomena  of  this  wild  and  sublime  region. 
The  great  lower  plain  which  extends  to  the 
feet  of  these  mountains  is  broken  up  near  their 
bases  into  crests  and  ridges,  resembling  the 
surges  of  the  ocean  breaking  on  a  /ocky  shore. 

In  a  line  with  the  mountains,  the  plain  is 
gashed  with  numerous  and  dangerous  chasms, 
from  four  to  ten  feet  wide,  and  of  great  depth. 


r. 


I9S 


J3onneville'0  Bdventuree 


if; 


I'i 


'  1   ■ 

'fl 

./; 

'■% 

,:fi 

ilik 


1;  ' 

.lit. 

Captain  Bonneville  attempted  to  sound  some 
of  these  openings,  but  without  any  satisfactory 
result.  A  stone  dropped  into  one  of  them  re- 
verberated against  the  sides  for  apparently  a 
very  great  depth,  and,  by  its  sound,  indicated 
the  same  kind  of  substance  with  the  surface, 
as  long  as  the  strokes  could  be  heard.  The 
horse,  instinctively  sagacious  in  avoiding  dan- 
ger, shrinks  back  in  alarm  from  the  least  of 
these  chasms,  pricking  up  his  ears,  snorting 
and  pawing,  until  permitted  to  turn  away. 

We  have  been  told  by  a  person  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  country,  that  it  is  some- 
times necessary  to  travel  fifty  and  sixty  miles, 
to  get  round  one  of  these  tremendous  ravines. 
Considerable  streams,  like  that  of  Godin's 
River,  that  run  with  a  bold,  free  current,  lose 
themselves  in  this  plain  ;  some  of  them  end  in 
swamps,  others  suddenly  disappear,  finding, 
no  doubt,  subterranean  outlets. 

Opposite  to  these  chasms,  Snake  River  makes 
tvvo  desperate  leaps  over  precipices,  at  a  short 
distance  from  each  other ;  one  twenty,  the 
other  forty  feet  in  height. 

The  volcanic  plain  in  question  forms  an  area 
of  about  sixty  miles  in  diameter,  where  noth- 
ing meets  the  eye  but  a  desolate  and  awful 
waste  ;  where  no  grass  grows  nor  water  runs, 
and  where  nothing  is  to  be  seen  but  lava. 


BScao  Xava 


199 


Ranges  of  mountains  skirt  this  plain,  and,  in 
Captain  Bonneville's  opinion,  were  formerly 
connected,  until  rent  asunder  by  some  convul- 
sion of  nature.  Far  to  the  east,  the  Three 
Tetons  lift  their  heads  sublimely,  and  dominate 
this  wide  sea  of  lava  ; — one  of  the  most  striking 
features  of  a  wilderness  where  everything  seems 
on  a  scale  of  stern  and  simple  grandeur. 

We  look  forward  with  impatience  for  some 
able  geologist  to  explore  this  sublime  but 
almost  unknown  region. 

It  was  not  until  the  25th  of  April,  that  the 
two  parties  of  trappers  broke  up  their  encamp- 
ments, and  undertook  to  cross  over  the  south- 
west end  of  the  mountain  by  a  pass  explored 
by  their  scouts.  From  various  points  of  the 
mountain  they  commanded  boundless  pros- 
pects of  the  lava  plain,  stretching  away  in  cold 
and  gloomy  barrenness  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach.  On  the  evening  of  the  26th,  they 
reached  the  plain  west  of  the  mountain,  watered 
by  the  Malade,  the  Bois6e,  and  other  streams, 
which  comprised  the  contemplated  trapping 
ground. 

The  country  about  the  Bois^e  (or  Woody) 
River,  is  extolled  by  Captain  Bonneville  as  the 
most  enchanting  he  had  seen  in  the  Far  West ; 
presenting  the  mingled  grandeur  and  beauty 
of  mountain   and  plain  ;    of  bright   running 


i)i 


200 


Xonncvi\lc*B  Bdvcnturee 


^ 


if.' 


:ll! 
,(,. 


streams  and  vast  grassy  meadows  waving  to 
the  breeze. 

We  shall  not  follow  the  captain  throughout 
his  trapping  campaign,  which  lasted  until  the 
beginning  of  June  ;  nor  detail  all  the  manoeu- 
vres of  the  rival  trapping  parties,  and  their 
various  schemes  to  outwit  and  out-trap  each 
other.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  after  having 
visited  and  camped  about  various  streams  with 
various  success,  Captain  Bonneville  set  for- 
ward early  in  June  for  the  appointed  rendezvous 
at  the  caches.  On  the  way,  he  treated  his 
party  to  a  grand  buffalo  hunt.  The  scouts  had 
reported  numerous  herds  in  a  plain  beyond  an 
intervening  height.  There  was  an  immediate 
halt  ;  the  fleetest  horses  were  forthwith 
mounted,  and  the  party  advanced  to  the  sum- 
mit of  the  hill.  Hence  they  beheld  the  great 
plain  below  absolutely  swarming  with  buffalo. 
Captain  Bonneville  now  appointed  the  place 
where  he  would  encamp ;  and  towards  which 
the  hunters  were  to  drive  the  game.  He 
cautioned  the  latter  to  advance  slowly,  reserv- 
ing the  strength  and  speed  of  the  horses,  until 
within  a  moderate  distance  of  the  herds. 
Twenty-two  horsemen  descended  cautiously 
into  the  plain,  conformably  to  these  directions. 
"  It  was  a  beautiful  sight,"  says  the  captain, 

to  see  the  runners,  as  they  are  called,  advan- 


«i 


■ 


Brrival  at  tbe  Cacbea 


201 


cing  in  column,  at  a  slow  trot,  until  within  two 
hundred  and  fifty  yards  of  the  outskirts  of 
the  herd,  then  dashing  on  at  full  speed,  until 
lost  in  the  immense  multitude  of  buffaloes 
scouring  the  plain  in  every  direction."  All 
was  nov/  tumult  and  wild  confusion.  In  the 
meantime.  Captain  Bonneville  and  the  residue 
of  the  party  moved  on  to  the  appointed  camp- 
ing ground  ;  thither  the  most  expert  runners 
succeeded  in  driving  numbers  of  buffalo,  which 
were  killed  hard  by  the  camp,  and  the  flesh 
transported  thither  without  difficulty.  In  a 
little  while  the  whole  camp  looked  like  one 
great  slaughter-house  ;  the  carcasses  were  skil- 
fully cut  up,  great  fires  were  made,  scaffolds 
erected  for  drying  and  jerking  beef,  and  an 
ample  provision  was  made  for  future  subsist- 
ence. On  the  I5lh  of  June,  the  precise  day 
appointed  for  the  rendezvous,  Captain  Bonne- 
ville and  his  party  arrived  safely  at  the  caches, 
Here  he  was  joined  by  the  other  detachments 
of  his  main  party,  all  in  good  health  and  spirits. 
The  caches  were  again  opened,  supplies  of  vari- 
ous kinds  taken  out,  and  a  liberal  allowance  of 
aqua  vita  distributed  throughout  the  camp,  to 
celebrate  with  proper  conviviality  this  merry 
meeting. 


'i    1 

Ui' 


Hi' 

m  ^  i 


Hi! 


I'  1 


]1 .  - 

■A-    . 

i!  n 
li'i 


If 


i' 


I '] 


Cbaptec  flDf f f . 

Meeting  with  Hodgkiss— Misfortunes  of  the  Nez 
Percys — Schemes  of  Kosato,  the  Renegado — His 
Foray  into  the  Horse  Prairie — Invasion  of  Blackfeet 
— Blue  John,  and  his  Forlorn  Hope — ^Their  Gener- 
ous Enterprise — ^Their  Fate — Consternation  and 
Despair  of  the  Village — Solemn  Obsequies — Attempt 
at  Indian  Trade — Hudson's  Bay  Company's  Monoply 
— Arrangements  for  Autumn— Breaking  up  of  an 
Encampment 

HAVING  now  a  pretty  strong  party,  well 
armed  and  equipped.  Captain  Bonne- 
•  ville  no  longer  felt  the  necessity  of 
fortifying  himself  in  the  secret  places  and  fast- 
nesses of  the  mountains;  but  sallied  forth 
boldly  into  the  Snake  River  plain,  in  search  of 
his  clerk,  Hodgkiss,  who  had  remained  with 
the  Nez  Percys.  He  found  him  on  the  24th  of 
June,  and  learnt  from  him  another  chapter  of 
misfortunes  which  had  recently  befallen  that 
ill-fated  race. 
After  the  departure  of  Captain  Bonneville,  in 

202 


ltodato'0  Schemes 


2C3 


March,  Kosato,  the  renegade  Black  foot,  had 
recovered  from  the  wound  received  in  battle  ; 
and  with  his  strength  revived  all  his  deadly 
hostility  to  his  native  tribe.  He  now  resumed 
his  efforts  to  stir  up  the  Ncz  Percys  to  repri- 
sals upon  their  old  enemies ;  reminding  them 
incessantly  of  all  the  outrages  and  robberies 
they  had  recently  experienced,  and  assuring 
them  that  such  would  continue  to  be  their  lot, 
until  they  proved  themselves  men  by  some  sig- 
nal retaliation. 

The  impassioned  eloquence  of  the  desperado 
at  length  produced  an  effect ;  and  a  band  of 
braves  enlisted  under  his  guidance,  to  penetrate 
into  the  Blackfoot  country,  harass  their  vil- 
lages, carry  oflF  their  horses,  and  commit  all 
kinds  of  depredations. 

Kosato  pushed  forward  on  his  foray,  as  far 
as  the  Horse  Prairie ;  where  he  came  upon  a 
strong  party  of  Blackfeet.  Without  waiting 
to  estimate  their  force,  he  attacked  them  with 
characteristic  fury,  and  was  bravely  seconded 
by  his  followers.  The  contest,  for  a  time,  was 
hot  and  bloody  :  at  length,  as  is  customary 
with  these  two  tribes,  they  paused,  and  held  a 
long  parley,  or  rather  a  war  of  words. 

"What  need,"  said  the  Blackfoot  chief, 
tauntingly,  "have  the  Nez  Percys  to  leave 
their  homes,  and  sally  forth  on  war  parties, 


204 


JSonncviUe'0  BDventure0 


when  thej'  have  danger  enough  at  their  own 
doors?  If  you  want  fighting,  return  to  your 
villages ;  you  will  have  plenty  of  it  there. 
The  Blackfeet  warriors  hp.ve  hitherto  made 
war  upon  you  as  children.  They  are  now  com- 
ing as  men.  A  great  force  is  at  hand ;  they 
are  on  their  way  to  your  towns,  and  are  de- 
termined to  rub  out  the  very  name  of  the  Nez 
Percys  from  the  mountains.  Return,  I  say,  to 
your  towns,  and  fight  there,  if  you  wish  to 
live  any  longer  as  a  people." 

Kosato  took  him  at  his  word ;  for  he  knew 
the  character  of  his  native  tribe.  Hastening 
back  with  his  band  to  the  Nez  Perc6  village, 
he  told  all  that  he  had  seen  and  heard  ;  and 
urged  the  most  prompt  and  strenuous  meas- 
ures for  defense.  The  Nez  Percys,  however, 
heard  him  with  their  accustomed  phlegm  :  the 
threat  of  the  Blackfeet  had  been  often  made, 
and  fiS  often  had  proved  a  mere  bravado ;  such 
they  pronounced  it  to  be  at  present,  and,  of 
course,  took  no  precaution. 

They  Wvre  soon  convinced  that  it  was  no 
empty  menace.  In  a  few  days,  a  band  of  three 
hundred  Blackfeet  warriors  appeared  upon 
the  hills.  All  now  was  consternation  in  the 
village.  The  force  of  the  Nez  Percys  was  too. 
small  to  cope  with  the  enemy  in  open  fight  ; 
many  of  the  young  men  having  gone  to  their 


JSlue  5obn 


205 


relatives  on  the  Columbia  to  procure  horses. 
The  sages  met  in  hurned  council.  What  was 
to  be  done  to  ward  off  a  'ow  which  threatened 
annihilation  ?  In  this  moment  of  imminent 
peril,  a  Pierced- Nose  chief,  named  Blue  John 
by  the  whites,  offered  to  approach .  secretly 
with  a  small  but  chosen  band,  through  a  de- 
file which  led  to  the  encampment  of  the  enemy, 
and,  by  a  sudden  onset,  to  drive  off  the  horses. 
Should  this  blow  be  successful,  the  spirit  and 
strength  of  the  invaders  would  be  broken,  and 
the  Nez  Percys,  having  horses,  would  be  more 
than  a  match  for  them.  Should  it  fail,  the 
village  would  not  be  worse  off  than  at  present, 
when  destruction  seemed  inevitable. 

Twenty-nine  of  the  choicest  warriors  in- 
stantly volunteered  to  follow  Blue  John  in  this 
hazardous  enterprise.  They  prepared  for  it 
with  the  solemnity  and  devotion  peculiar  to 
the  tribe.  Blue  John  consulted  his  medicine, 
or  talismanic  charm,  such  as  every  chief  keeps 
in  his  lodge  as  a  supernatural  protection.  The 
oracle  assured  him  that  his  enterprise  would 
be  completely  successful,  provided  no  rain 
should  fall  before  he  had  passed  through  the 
defile;  but  should  it  rain,  bis  band  would  be 
utterly  cut  off. 

The  day  was  clear  and  bright ;  and  Blue  John 
anticipated  that  the  skies  would  be  propitious. 


!  i 

14 


*1       i  A 


III 


llo. 


I 


1 ''fi 


I 


Pi 


hi 

ifil 

I!  i 


206 


JSoimct»illc'0  BOvcntured 


He  departed  in  high  spirits  with  his  forlorn 
hope ;  and  never  did  band  of  braves  make  a 
more  gallant  display— horsemen  and  horses  be- 
ing decorated  and  equipped  in  the  fiercest  and 
most  glaring  style — glittering  with  arms  and 
ornaments,  and  fluttering  with  feathers. 

The  weather  continued  serene  until  they 
reached  the  defile  ;  but  just  as  they  were  enter- 
ing it,  a  black  cloud  rose  over  the  mountain 
crest,  and  there  was  a  sudden  shower.  The 
warriors  turned  to  their  leader  as  if  to  read 
his  opinion  of  this  unlucky  omen  ;  but  the 
countenance  of  Blue  John  remained  unchanged, 
and  they  continued  to  press  forward.  It  was 
their  hope  to  make  their  way,  undiscovered, 
to  the  very  vicinity  of  the  Blackfoot  camp  ;  but 
they  had  not  proceeded  far  in  the  defile,  when 
they  met  a  scouting  party  of  the  enemy.  They 
attacked  and  drove  them  among  the  hills,  and 
were  pursuing  the^  with  great  eagerness,  when 
they  heard  shouts  and  yells  behind  them,  and  be- 
held the  main  body  of  the  Blackfeet  advancing. 

The  second  chief  wavered  a  little  at  the 
sight,  and  proposed  an  instant  retreat.  *  *  We 
came  to  fight!"  replied  Blue  John,  ster,nly. 
Then  giving  his  war-whoop,  he  sprang  forward 
to  the  conflict.  His  braves  followed  him. 
They  made  a  headlong  charge  upon  the  enemy  ; 
not  with  the  hope  of  victory,  but  the  determi- 


B  f  rtobtful  Carnage 


207 


nation  to  sell  their  lives  dearly.  A  frightful 
carnage  rather  than  a  regular  battle,  succeeded. 
The  forlorn  band  laid  heaps  of  their  enemies 
dead  at  their  feet,  but  were  overwhelmed  with 
numbers,  and  pressed  into  a  gorge  of  the  moun- 
tain, where  they  continued  to  fight  until  they 
were  cut  to  pieces.  One,  only,  of  the  thirty 
survived.  He  sprang  on  the  horse  of  a  Black- 
foot  warrior  whom  he  had  slain,  and  escaping 
at  full  speed,  brought  home  the  baleful  tidings 
to  his  village. 

Who  can  paint  the  horror  and  desolation  of 
the  inhabitants  ?  The  flower  of  their  warriors 
laid  low,  and  a  ferocious  enemy  at  their  doors. 
The  air  was  rent  by  'he  shrieks  and  lamenta- 
tions of  the  women,  who,  casting  off  their 
ornaments,  and  tearing  their  hair,  wandered 
about,  frantically  bewailing  the  dead,  and  pre- 
dicting destruction  to  the  living.  The  remain- 
ing warriors  armed  themselves  for  obstinate 
defense ;  but  showed,  by  their  gloomy  looks 
and  sullen  silence,  that  they  considered  defense 
hopeless.  To  their  surprise,  the  Blackfeet  re- 
frained from  pursuing  their  advantage ;  per- 
haps satisfied  with  the  blood  already  shed,  or 
disheartened  by  the  loss  they  had  themselves 
sustained.  At  any  rate,  they  disappeared  from 
the  hills,  and  it  was  soon  ascertained  that  they 
had  returned  to  the  Horse  Prairie. 


3o8 


J3onncviUc'0  BOventured 


III! 


'■I 


I!;' 


The  unfortunate  Nez  Percds  now  began  once 
more  to  breathe.  A  few  of  their  warriors, 
taking  pack-horses,  repaired  to  the  defile  to 
bring  away  the  bodies  of  their  slaughtered 
brethren.  They  found  them  mere  headless 
trunks  ;  and  the  wounds  with  which  they  were 
covered,  showed  how  bravely  they  had  fought. 
Their  hearts,  too,  had  been  torn  out  and  car- 
ried off;  a  proof  of  their  signal  valor;  for  in 
devouring  the  heart  of  a  foe  renowned  for 
bravery,  or  who  has  distinguished  himself  in 
battle,  the  Indian  victor  thinks  he  appropriates 
to  himself  the  courage  of  the  deceased. 

Gathering  the  mangled  bodies  of  the  slain, 
and  strapping  them  across  their  pack-horses, 
the  warriors  returned,  in  dismal  procession,  to 
the  village.  The  tribe  came  forth  to  meet 
them ;  the  women  with  piercing  cries  and 
wailings  ;  the  men  with  downcast  countenances, 
in  which  gloom  and  sorrow  seemed  fixed  as  if 
in  marble.  The  mutilated  and  almost  undis- 
tinguishable  bodies  were  placed  in  rows  upon 
the  ground,  in  the  midst  of  the  assemblage  ; 
and  the  scene  of  heart-rending  anguish  and 
lamentations  that  ensued,  would  have  cpn- 
founded  those  who  insist  on  Indian  stoicism. 

Such  was  the  disastrous  event  that  had  over- 
whelmed the  Nez  Perc6  tribe,  during  the 
absence  of  Captain   Bonneville;   and  he  was 


Bttempt  at  Ztn^c 


-»09 


informed  that  Kosato,  the  renegade,  who,  being 
stationed  in  the  village,  had  been  prevented 
from  going  on  the  forlorn  hope,  was  again 
striving  to  rouse  the  vindictive  feelings  of  his 
adopted  brethren,  and  to  prompt  them  to  re- 
venge the  slaughter  of  their  devoted  braves. 

During  his  sojourn  on  the  Snake  River  plain, 
Captain  Bonneville  made  one  of  his  first  essays 
at  the  strategy  of  the  fur  trade.  There  was  at 
this  time  an  assemblage  of  Nez  Perces,  Flat- 
heads,  and  Cottonois  Indians,  encamped  to- 
gether upon  the  plain  ;  well  provided  with 
beaver,  which  they  had  collected  during  the 
spring.  These  they  were  waiting  to  traffic 
with  a  resident  trader  of  the  Hudson's  Bay 
Company,  who  was  stationed  among  them, 
and  with  whom  they  were  accustomed  to  deal. 
As  it  happened,  the  trader  was  almost  entirely 
destitute  of  Indian  goods ;  his  spring  supply 
not  having  yet  reached  him.  Captain  Bonne- 
ville had  secret  iuielligence  that  supplies  were 
on  their  way,  and  would  soon  arrive  ;  he 
hoped,  however,  by  a  prompt  move,  to  antici- 
pate their  arrival,  and  secure  the  market  to 
himself.  Throwing  himself,  therefore,  among 
the  Indians,  he  opened  his  packs  of  merchan- 
dise, and  displayed  the  most  tempting  wares  ; 
bright  cloths,  and  scarlet  blankets,  and  glitter- 
ing ornaments,  and  everything  gay  and  gloriou.j 

VOL.  I.— 1/ 


'Pi 

m 


0:- 


;,*' 


i   i 


210 


JSonncY^UIe'd  BDvcnturcs 


in  the  eyes  of  warrior  or  squaw  ;  all,  however, 
wa's  in  vain.  The  Hudson's  Bay  trader  was  a 
perfect  master  of  hi»  business,  thoroughly  ac- 
quainted with  the  Indians  he  had  to  deal  with, 
and  held  such  control  over  them,  that  none 
dared  to  act  openly  in  opposition  to  his  wishes : 
nay,  more — he  came  nigh  turning  the  tables 
upon  the  captain,  and  shaking  the  allegiance 
of  some  of  his  free  trappers,  by  distributing 
liquors  among  them.  The  latter,  therefore, 
was  glad  to  give  up  a  competition,  where  the 
war  was  likely  to  be  carried  into  his  own 
camp. 

In  fact,  the  traders  of  the  Hudson's  Bay 
Company  have  advantages  over  all  competitors 
ill  the  trade  beyond  the  Rocky  Mountains. 
That  huge  monopoly  centres  within  itself  not 
merely  its  own  hereditary  and  long-established 
power  and  influence ;  but  also  those  of  its 
ancient  rival,  but  now  integral  part,  the  famous 
Northwest  Company.  It  has  thus  its  races  of 
traders,  trappers,  hunters,  and  voyageurSy  born 
and  brought  up  in  its  service,  and  inheriting 
from  preceding  generations* a  knowledge  and 
aptitude  in  everything  connected  with  Indian 
life,  and  Indian  traffic.  In  the  process  of  years, 
this  company  has  been  enabled  to  spread  its 
ramifications  in  every  direction  ;  its  system  of 
intercourse  is  founded  upon  a  long  and  inti- 


'f)uD0Oird  JSai?  Compnnis'd  Aonopoli?      211 


mate  knowledge  of  the  character  and  necessi- 
ties of  the  various  tribes  ;  and  of  all  the 
fastnesses,  defiles,  and  favorable  hunting 
grounds  of  the  country.  Their  capital,  also, 
and  the  manner  in  which  their  supplies  are 
distributed  at  various  posts  or  forwarded  by 
regular  caravans,  keep  their  traders  well  sup- 
plied, and  enable  them  to  furnish  their  goods 
to  the  Indians  at  a  cheap  rate.  Their  men, 
too,  being  chiefly  drawn  from  the  Canadas, 
where  they  enjoy  great  influence  and  control,  are 
engaged  at  the  most  trifling  wages,  and  sup- 
ported at  little  cost ;  the  provisions  which  they 
take  with  them  being  little  more  than  Indian 
corn  and  grease.  They  were  brought,  also, 
into  the  most  perfect  discipline  and  subordina- 
tion, especially  when  their  leaders  have  once 
got  them  to  their  scene  of  action  in  the  heart 
of  the  wilderness. 

These  circumstances  combine  to  give  the 
leaders  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company  a  de- 
cided advantage  over  all  the  American  compa- 
nies that  come  within  their  range  ;  so  that  any 
close  competition  with  them  is  almost  hopeless. 

Shortly  after  Captain  Bonneville's  ineffec- 
tual attempt  to  participate  in  the  trade  of  the 
associated  camp,  the  supplies  of  the  Hudson's 
Bay  Company  arrived  ;  and  the  resident  trader 
was  enabled  to  monopolize  the  market. 


^a 


ais 


JSonneviUe'd  BDventured 


^Si^f 


I 

1 


p 


It  was  now  the  beginning  of  July  ;  in  the 
latter  part  of  which  month,  Captain  Bonne- 
ville had  appointed  a  rendezvous  at  Horse 
Creek,  in  Green  River  Valley,  with  some  of 
the  parties  which  he  had  detached  in  the  pre- 
ceding year.  He  now  turned  his.  thoughts  in 
that  direction,  and  prepared  for  the  journey. 

The  Cottonois  were  anxious  for  him  to  pro- 
ceed at  once  to  their  country  ;  which,  they  as- 
sured him,  abounded  in  beaver.  The  lands 
of  this  tribe  lie  immediately  north  of  those  of 
the  Flatheads,  and  are  open  to  the  inroads  of 
the  Blackfeet.  It  is  true,  the  latter  professed 
to  be  their  allies  ;  but  they  had  been  guilty  of 
so  many  acts  of  perfidy,  that  the  Cottonois 
had,  latterly,  renounced  their  hollow  friend- 
ship, and  attached  themselves  to  the  Flatheads 
and  Nez  Percys.  These  they  had  accompa- 
nied in  their  migrations,  rather  than  remain 
alone  at  liome,  exposed  to  the  outrages  of  the 
Blackfeet.  They  were  now  apprehensive  that 
these  marauders  would  range  their  country 
during  their  absence,  and  destroy  the  beaver ; 
this  was  their  reason  for  urging  Captain  Bonne- 
ville to  make  it  his  autumnal  hunting  ground. 
The  latter,  however,  was  not  to  be  tempted ; 
his  engagements  required  his  presence  at  the 
rendezvous  in  Green  River  Valley,  and  he  had 
already  formed  his  ulterior  plans.  . 


Bn  TIlnespecte^  DttSculti? 


213 


An  unexpected  difficulty  now  arose.  The 
free  trappers  suddenly  made  a  stand,  and  de- 
clined to  accompany  him.  It  was  a  long  and 
weary  journey  ;  the  route  lay  through  Pierre's 
Hole,  and  other  mountain  passes  infested  by 
the  Blackfeet,  and  recently  the  scenes  of  san- 
guinary conflicts.  They  were  not  disposed  to 
undertake  such  unnecessary  toils  and  dangers, 
when  they  had  good  and  secure  trapping 
grounds  nearer  at  hand,  on  the  head-waters 
of  the  Salmon  Piver. 

A.s  these  were  free  and  independent  fellows, 
whose  will  and  whim  "were  apt  to  be  law — who 
had  tL  lole  wilderness  before  them,  "  where 
to  cho^w'^,  '  and  the  trader  of  a  rival  company 
at  hand,  ready  to  pay  for  their  services — it  was 
necessary  to  bend  to  their  wishes.  Captain 
Bonneville  fitted  them  out,  therefore,  for  the 
hunting  ground  in  question,  appointing  Mr. 
Hodgkiss  to  act  as  their  partisan,  or  leader, 
and  fixing  a  rendezvous  where  he  should  meet 
them  in  the  course  of  the  ensuing  winter.  The 
brigade  consisted  of  twenty-one  free  trappers, 
and  four  or  five  hired  men  as  camp-keepers. 
This  was  not  the  exact  arrangement  of  a  trap- 
ping party  ;  which,  when  accurately  organized, 
is  composed  of  two  thirds  trappers,  whose  duty 
leads  them  continually  abroad  in  pursuit  of 
game  ;  and  one  third  camp-keepers,  who  cook, 


m 


r^ — ; 


214 


JSoimevillc'd  Bdrcntured 


I' ' 


( ,  I 


pack,  and  unpack  ;  set  up  the  tents,  take  care 
of  the  horses,  and  do  all  other  duties  usually 
assigned  by  the  Indians  to  their  women.  This 
part  of  ^he  service  is  apt  to  be  fulfilled  by  French 
Creoles  irom  Canada  and  the  valley  of  the  Mis- 
sissippi. 

In  the  meantime,  the  associated  Indians, 
having  completed  their  trade  and  received 
their  supplieJi,  were  all  ready  to  dispense  in 
various  directions. 

As  there  was  a  formidable  band  of  Black- 
feet  just  over  a  mountain  to  the  northeast,  byi 
which  Hodgkiss  and  his  free  trappers  would 
have  to  pass  ;  and  as  it  was  known  that  those 
sharp-sighted  marauders  had  their  scouts  out, 
watching  every  movement  of  the  encampments, 
so  as  to  cut  off  stragglers  or  weak  detachments, 
Captain  Bonneville  prevailed  upon  the  Nez 
Perces  to  accompany  Hodgkiss  and  his  party, 
until  they  should  be  beyond  the  range  of  the 
enemy. 

The  Cottonois  and  the  Pends  Oreilles  deter- 
mined to  move  together  at  the  same  time,  and 
to  pass  close  under  the  mountain  infested  by 
the  Blackfeet ;  while  Captain  Bonneville,  with 
his  party,  \vas  to  strike  in  an  opposite  direc- 
tion to  the  southeast,  bending  his  course  for 
Pierre's  Hole,  on  his  way  to  Green  River. 

Accordingly,   on  the  6th  of  July,   all  the 


S>idpcr0fon  ot  tbe  Camps 


2IS 


camps  were  raised  at  the  same  moment,  each 
party  taking  its  separate  route.  The  scene 
was  wild  and  picturesque ;  the  long  line  of 
traders,  trappers,  and  Indians,  with  their  rugged 
and  fantastic  dresses  and  accoutrements  ;  their 
^'^aried  weapons,  their  innumerable  horses, 
some  under  the  saddle,  some  burdened  with 
packages,  others  following  in  droves ;  all 
stretching  in  lengthening  cavalcades  across 
the  vast  landscape,  and  making  for  dififerent 
points  of  the  plains  and  mountains. 


' 


Cbaptcr  jfff • 

Precautions  in  Dangerous  Defiles — ^Trappers*  Mode 
of  Defense  on  a  Prairie — A  Mysterious  Visitor — 
Arrival  in  Green  River  Valley — ^Adventures  of  the 
Detachments — The  Forlorn  Partisan— His  Tale  of 
Disasters. 

AS  the  route  of  Captain  Bonneville  lay 
through  what  was  considered  the  most 
perilous  part  of  this  region  of  dangers, 
he  took  all  his  measures  with  military  skiL, 
and  observed  the  strictest  circumspection. 
When  on  the  march,  a  small  scouting  pprty 
was  thrown  in  the  advance,  to  reconnoitre  the 
country  through  which  they  were  to  pass.  The 
encampments  were  selected  with  great  care, 
and  a  watch  was  kept  up  night  and  day.  The 
horses  were  b:  ought  in  and  picketed  at  night, 
and  at  daybreak  a  party  was  sent  out  to  scour 
the  neighborhood  for  half  a  mile  round,  beat- 
ing up  every  grove  and  thicket  that  could  give 
shelter  to  a  lurking  foe.  When  all  was  re- 
ported safe,  the  horses  were  cast  loose  and 

ax6 


Indian  Aode  of  S>efen0C 


217 


turned  out  to  graze.  Were  such  precautions 
generally  observed  by  traders  and  hunters,  we 
should  not  so  often  hear  of  parties  being  sur- 
prised by  the  Indians. 

Having  stated  the  military  arrangements  of 
the  captain,  we  may  here  mention  a  mode  of 
defense  on  the  open  prairie,  which  we  have 
hs-ard  from  a  veteran  in  the  Indian  trade. 
When  a  party  of  trappers  is  on  a  journey  with 
a  convoy  of  goods  or  peltries,  every  man  has 
three  pack-horses  under  his  care,  each  horse 
laden  with  three  packs.  Every  man  is  pro- 
vided witli  a  picket  with  an  iron  ^ad,  a  mal- 
let, and  hobbles,  or  leathern  fetters  for  the 
horses.  The  trappers  proceed  across  the  prai- 
rie in  a  long  line  ;  or  sometimes  three  parallel 
lines,  sufficiently  distant  from  each  other  to 
prevent  the  packs  from  interfering.  At  an 
alarm,  when  there  is  no  covert  at  hand,  the 
line  wheels  so  as  to  bring  the  front  to  the  i  'ar, . 
and  form  a  circle.  All  then  dismount,  drive 
their  pickets  into  the  ground  in  the  centre, 
fasten  the  horses  to  them,  and  hobble  their 
forelegs,  so  that,  in  case  of  alarm,  they  cannot 
break  away.  They  then  unload  them,  and 
dispose  of  their  packs  as  breastworks  on  the 
periphery  of  the  circle,  each  man  having  nine 
packs  behind  which  to  shelter  himself.  In 
this  promptly-formed  fortress,  they  await  the 


ii ' 


V'  \,. 


llr 


!      ii 


< !      :     frill 


Hi'  ■  li 


!      1 


i 


I    M 


3I8 


JSonnevtllc'd  BDvcnturcd 


assault  of  the  enemy,  and  are  enabled  to  set 
large  bands  of  Indians  at  defiance. 

The  first  night  of  his  march,  Captain  Bonne- 
ville encamped  upon  Henry's  Fork  ;  an  upper 
branch  of  Snake  River,  called  after  the  first 
American  trader  that  erected  a  fort  beyond  the 
mountains.  About  an  hour  after  all  hands  had 
come  to  a  halt  the  clatter  of  hoofs  was  heard, 
and  a  solitary  female,  of  the  Nez  Perc^  tribe, 
came  galloping  up.  She  was  mounted  on  a 
mustang,  or  half-wild  horse,  which  she  man- 
aged by  a  long  rope  hitched  round  the  under  ^ 
jaw  by  way  of  bridle.  Dismounting,  she 
walked  silently  into  the  midst  of  the  camp,  and 
there  seated  herself  on  the  ground,  still  hold- 
ing her  horse  by  the  long  halter. 

The  sudden  and  lonely  apparition  of  this 
woman,  and  her  calm,  yet  resolute  demeanor, 
awakened  universal  curiosity.  The  hunters  and 
trappers  gathered  round,  and  gazed  on  her  as , 
something  mysterious.  She  remained  silent,  but 
maintained  her  air  of  calmness  and  self-posses- 
sion. Captain  Bonneville  approached  and  in- 
terrogated her  as  to  the  object  of  her  mysterious 
visit.  Her  answer  was  brief  but  earnest — *  *  I 
love  the  whites — I  will  go  with  them. ' '  She  was 
forthwith  invited  to  a  lodge,  of  which  she 
readily  took  possession,  and  from  that  time 
forward  was  considered  one  of  the  camp. 


Brrival  at  6reen  fRivct 


STQ 


Inconsequence,  very  probably,  of  the  military 
precautions  of  Captain  Bonneville,  he  conducted 
his  party  in  safety  through  this  hazardous 
region.  No  accident  of  a  disastrous  kind  oc- 
curred, excepting  the  loss  of  a  horse,  which,  in 
passing  along  the  giddy  edge  of  the  precipice, 
called  the  Cornice,  a  dangerous  pass  between 
Jackson's  and  Pierre's  Hole,  fell  over  the  brink 
and  was  dashed  to  pieces. 

On  the  13th  of  July  (1833),  Captain  Bonne- 
ville arrived  at  Green  River.  As  he  entered 
the  valley,  he  beheld  it  strewn  in  every  direc- 
tion with  the  carcasses  of  buffaloes.  It  was 
evident  that  Indians  had  recently  been  there, 
and  in  great  numbers.  Alarmed  at  this  sight, 
he  came  to  a  halt,  and  soon  as  it  was  dark, 
sent  out  spies  to  his  place  of  rendezvous  on 
Horse  Creek,  where  he  had  expected  to  meet 
with  his  detached  parties  of  trappers  on  the 
following  day.  Early  in  the  morning,  the 
spies  made  their  appearance  in  the  camp,  and 
with  them  came  three  trappers  of  one  of  his 
bands,  from  the  rendezvous,  who  told  him  his 
people  were  all  there  expecting  him.  As  to 
the  slaughter  among  the  buffaloes,  it  had  been 
made  by  a  friendly  band  of  Shoshonies,  who 
had  fallen  in  with  one  of  his  trapping  parties, 
and  accompanied  them  to  the  rendezvous. 
Having  imparted  this  intelligence,  the  three 


i 


J  ■• 


q 


'•n\ 


m 


fda 


1^ 


290 


Xom\cvi\\c*B  Bdveiituree 


worthies  from  the  rendezvous  broached  a  small 
keg  of  ' '  alcohol,  * '  which  they  had  brought 
with  them,  to  enliven  this  merry  meeting.  The 
liquor  went  briskly  round  ;  all  absent  friends 
were  toasted,  and  the  party  moved  forward  to 
the  rendezvous  in  high  spirits. 

The  meeting  of  associated  bands,  who  have 
been  separated  from  each  other  on  these  hazard- 
ous enterprises,  is  always  interesting  ;  each 
having  its  tale  of  perils  and  adventures  to  re- 
late. Such  was  the  case  with  the  various  de- 
tachments of  Captain  Bonneville's  company, 
thus  brought  together  on  Horse  Creek.  Here 
was  the  detachment  of  fifty  men  which  he  had 
sent  from  Salmon  River,  in  the  preceding  month 
of  November,  to  winter  on  Snake  River.  They 
had  met  with  many  crosses  and  losses  in  the 
course  of  their  spring  hunt,  not  so  much  from 
the  Indians  as  from  white  men.  They  had 
come  in  competition  with  rival  trapping  parties, 
particularly  one  belonging  to  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tain Fur  Company  ;  and  they  had  long  stories 
to  relate  of  their  manoeuvres  to  forestall  or  dis- 
tress each  other.  In  fact,  in  these  virulent  and 
sordid  competitions,  the  trappers  of  each  party 
were  more  intent  upon  injuring  their  rivals, 
than  benefiting  themselves ;  breaking  each 
other's  traps,  trampling  and  tearing  to  pieces 
the  beaver  lodges,  and  doing  everything  in 


(Tales  of  Btdaeters 


921 


their  power  to  mar  the  success  of  the  hunt. 
We  forbear  to  detail  these  pitiful  contentions. 

The  most  lamentable  tale  of  disasters,  how- 
ever, that  Captain  Bonneville  had  to  hear,  was 
from  a  partisan,  whom  he  had  detached  in 
the  preceding  year,  with  twenty  men,  to  hunt 
through  the  outskirts  of  the  Crow  country,  and 
on  the  tributary  streams  of  the  Yellowstone  ; 
whence  he  was  to  proceed  and  join  him  in  his 
winter  quarters  on  Salmon  River.  This  parti- 
san appeared  at  the  rendezvous  without  his 
party,  and  a  sorrowful  tale  of  disasters  had  he 
to  relate.  In  hunting  the  Crow  country,  he 
fell  in  with  a  village  of  that  tribe  ;  notorious 
rogues,  jockeys,  and  horse  stealers,  and  errant 
scamperers  of  the  mountains.  These  decoyed 
most  of  his  men  to  desert,  and  carry  off  horses, 
traps,  and  accoutrements.  When  he  attempted 
to  retake  the  deserters,  the  Crow  warriors  ruf- 
fled up  to  him  and  declared  the  deserters  were 
their  good  friends,  had  determined  to  remain 
among  them,  and  should  not  be  molested.  The 
poor  partisan,  therefore,  was  fain  to  leave  his 
vagabonds  among  these  birds  of  their  own 
feather,  and,  being  too  weak  in  numbers- to  at- 
tempt the  dangerous  pass  across  the  mountains 
to  meet  Captain  Bonneville  on  Salmon  River, 
he  made,  with  the  few  that  remained  faithful 
to  him,  for  the  neighborhood  of  TuUock's  Fort, 


li 


%? 


H 


E    V 


223 


Xonncvi\lc*B  Bdveiiturca 


on  the  Yellowstone,  under  the  protection  of 
which  he  went  into  winter  quarters. 

He  soon  found  out  that  the  neighborhood  of 
the  fort  was  nearly  as  bad  as  the  neighborhood 
of  the  Crows.  His  men  were  continually  steal- 
ing away  thither,  with  whatever  beaver  skins 
they  could  secrete  or  lay  their  hands  on.  These 
they  would  exchange  with  the  hangers-on  of 
the  fort  for  whisky,  and  then  revel  in  drunk- 
enness and  debauchery. 

The  unlucky  partisan  made  another  move. 
Associating  with  his  party  a  few  free  trappers, 
whom  he  met  with  in  this  neighborhood,  he 
started  off  early  in  the  spring  to  trap  on  the 
head- waters  of  Powder  River.  In  the  course 
of  the  journey,  his  horses  were  so  much  jaded 
in  traversing  a  steep  mountain,  that  he  was 
ir^duced  to  turn  them  loose  to  graze  during  the 
night.  The  place  was  lonely  ;  the  path  was 
rugged  ;  there  was  not  the  sign  of  an  Indian  in 
the  neighborhood  ;  not  a  blade  of  grass  that 
had  been  turned  by  a  footstep.  But  who  can 
calculate  on  security  in  the  midst  of  an  Indian 
country,  where  the  foe  lurks  in  silence  and 
secrecy,  and  seems  to  come  and  go  on  the  wings 
of  the  wind  ?  The  horses  had  scarce  been 
turned  loose,  when  a  couple  of  Arickara  (or 
Rickaree)  warriors  entered  the  camp.  They 
effected  a  frank  and  friendly  demeanor ;    but 


Brlckara  Spica  in  Camp 


223 


their  appearance  and  movements  awakened  the 
suspicions  of  some  of  the  veteran  trapjKTs, 
well  versed  in  Indian  wiles.  Convinced  that 
they  were  spies  sent  on  some  sinister  errand, 
they  took  them  into  custody,  and  set  to  work 
to  drive  in  the  horses.  It  was  too  late — the 
horses  had  already  gone.  In  fact,  a  war  party 
of  Arickaras  had  been  hovering  on  their  trail 
for  several  days,  watching  with  the  paience 
and  perseverance  of  Indians,  for  some  moment 
of  negligence  and  fancied  security,  to  nir.ke  a 
successful  swoop.  The  two  spies  had  evidently 
been  sent  into  the  camp  to  create  a  diversion, 
while  their  confederates  carried  off  the  spoil. 

The  unlucky  partisan,  thus  robbed  of  his 
horses,  turned  furiously  on  his  prisoners,  or- 
dered them  to  be  bound  hand  and  foot,  and 
swore  to  put  them  to  death  unless  his  property 
were  restored.  The  robbers,  who  soon  found 
that  their  spies  were  in  captivity,  now  made 
their  appearance  on  horseback,  and  held  a 
parley.  The  sight  of  them,  mounted  on  the 
very  horses  they  had  stolen,  set  the  biood  of 
the  mountaineers  in  a  ferment  ;  but  it  was 
useless  to  attack  them,  as  they  would  have  but 
to  turn  their  steeds  and  scamper  out  of  the 
reach  of  pedestrians.  A  negotiation  was  now 
attempted.  The  Arickaras  oifered  what  they 
considered  fair  terms  ;  to  barter  one  horse,  or 


:f 


ip 


]\:  > 


:  'i 


1      I 


Bi 


St; 


i  :l 

ii 


-Uij 
if! 


ii: 


}„: 


Ii:' 


224 


Xonncviilc*e  B^vcntntee 


even  two  horses,  for  a  prisoner.  The  moun- 
taineers spurned  at  their  offer,  and  declared 
that,  unless  all  the  horses  were  relinquished, 
the  prisoners  should  be  burnt  to  death.  To 
give  force  to  their  threats,  a  pyre  of  logs  and 
fagots  were  heaped  up  and  kindled  into  a 
blaze. 

The  parley  continued  ;  the  Arickaras  released 
one  horse  and  then  another,  in  earnest  of  their 
proposition ;  finding,  however,  that  nothing 
short  of  the  relinquishment  of  all  their  spoils , 
would  purchase  the  lives  of  the  captives,  they 
abandoned  them  to  their  fate,  moving  off  with 
many  parting  words  and  lamentable  bowlings. 
The  prisoners  seeing  them  depart,  and  know- 
ing the  horrible  fate  that  awaited  them,  made 
a  desperate  effort  to  escape.  They  partially 
succeeded,  but  were  severely  wounded  and  re- 
taken ;  then  dragged  to  the  blazing  pyre,  and 
burnt  to  death  in  the  sight  of  their  retreating 
comrades. 

Such  are  the  savage  cruelties  that  white 
men  learn  to  practise,  who  mingle  in  savage 
life  :  and  such  are  the  acts  that  lead  to  terrible 
recrimination  on  the  part  of  the  Indians.  Should 
we  hear  of  any  atrocities  committed  by  the 
Arickaras  upon  captive  white  men,  let  this 
signal  and  recent  provocation  be  borne  in  mind. 
Individual  cases  of  the  kind  dwell  in  the  recol- 


m^ 


^be  Tanluchi?  partisan 


23S 


lections  of  whole  tribes  ;  and  it  is  a  point  of 
honor  and  conscience  to  revenge  them. 

The  loss  of  his  horses  completed  the  ruin  of 
the  unlucky  partisan.  It  was  out  of  his  power 
to  prosecute  his  hunting,  or  to  maintain  his 
party  ;  the  only  thought  now  was  how  to  get 
back  to  civilized  life.  At  the  first  watercourse, 
his  men  built  canoes,  and  committed  them- 
selves to  the  stream.  Some  engaged  themselves 
at  various  trading  establishments  at  which  they 
touched,  others  got  back  to  the  settlements. 
As  to  the  partisan,  he  found  an  opportunity  to 
make  his  way  to  the  rendezvous  at  Green  River 
Valley  ;  which  he  reached  in  time  to  render  to 
Captain  Bonneville  this  forlorn  account  of  his 
misadventures. 

VOL.  1.— IS 


■t 


n 


,1  : ' 


^H 


m 


i 


.•'':■ 


HI' 


:  i  ! 

i     I! 


Cbaptcr  f  f  • 

Gathering  in  Green  River  Valley — Visitings  and  Peast- 
ings  of  Iveaders — Rough  Wassailing  among  the  Trap- 
pers— ^Wild  Blades  of  the  Mountains— Indian  Belles 
— ^Potency  of  Bright  Beads  and  Red  Blankets — 
Arrival  of  Supplies — Revelry  and  Extravagance — 
Mad  Wolves — The  Lost  Indian. 

THE  Green  River  Valley  was  at  this  time 
the  scene  of  one  of  those  general  gath- 
erings of  traders,  trappers,  and  Indians, 
that  we  have  already  mentioned.  The  three 
rival  companies,  which,  for  a  year  past  had 
been  endeavoring  to  out-trade,  out-trap,  and 
out-wit  each  other,  were  here  encamped  in 
close  proximity,  awaiting  their  annual  sup- 
plies. About  four  miles  from  the  rendezvous 
of  Captain  Bonneville  was  that  of  tie  American 
Fur  Company,  hard  by  which,  was  that  also 
of  the  Rocky  Mountain  Fur  Company. 

After  the  eager  rivalry  and  almost  hostility 
displayed  by  these  companies  in  their  late  cam- 

226 


■■o..<t 


M: 


Oatbcring  in  0reen  'River  X>al\c^        227 


paigns,  it  might  be  expected  that,  when  thus 
brought  in  juxtaposition,  they  would  hold 
themselves  warily  and  sternly  aloof  from  each 
other,  and  should  they  happen  to  come  in  con- 
tact, brawl  and  bloodshed  would  ensue. 

No  such  thing !  Never  did  rival  lawyers, 
after  a  wrangle  at  the  bar,  meet  with  more 
social  good  humor  at  a  circuit  dinner.  The 
hunting  season  over,  all  past  tricks  and  ma- 
noeuvres are  forgotten,  all  feuds  and  bickerings 
buried  in  oblivion.  From  the  middle  of  June 
to  the  middle  of  September,  all  trapping  is 
suspended  ;  for  the  beavers  are  then  shedding 
their  furs,  and  their  skins  are  of  little  value. 
This,  then,  is  the  trapper's  holiday,  when  he 
is  all  for  fun  and  frolic,  and  ready  for  a  satur- 
nalia among  the  mountains. 

At  the  present  season,  too,  all  parties  were 
in  good  humor.  The  j^ear  had  been  productive. 
Competition,  by  threatening  to  lessen  their 
profits,  had  quickened  their  wits,  roused  their 
energies,  and  made  them  turn  every  favorable 
chance  to  the  best  advantage  ;  so  that,  on  as- 
sembling at  their  respective  places  of  rendez- 
vous, each  company  found  itself  in  possession 
of  a  rich  stock  of  peltries. 

The  leaders  of  the  diflferent  companies,  there- 
fore, mingled  on  terms  of  perfect  good  fellow- 
ship ;  interchanging  visits,  and  regaling  each 


ii! 


i 

3i 


m 


i 


228 


JSonncvfllc'0  BdvctUures 


i^-- 


i  i' 


other  in  the  best  style  their  respective  camps 
afTonled.  But  the  rich  treat  for  the  worthv 
captain  was  to  see  the  *'  chivalry  "  of  the  vari- 
ous encampments,  engaged  in  contests  of  skill 
at  running,  jumping,  wrestling,  shooting  with 
the  rifle,  and  runi.ing  horses.  And  then  their 
rough  hunters'  feastings  and  carousals.  They 
drank  together,  they  sang,  they  laughed,  they 
whooped ;  they  tried  to  outbrag  and  outlie 
each  other  in  stories  of  their  adventures  and 
achievements.  Here  the  free  trappers  were  in 
all  their  glory  ;  they  considered  themselves  the 
"  cocks  of  the  walk,"  and  always  carried  the 
highest  crests.  Now  and  then  familiarity  was 
pushed  too  far,  and  would  effervesce  into  a 
brawl,  and  a  "  rough  and  tumble  "  fight ;  but 
it  all  ended  in  cordial  reconciliation  and  maud- 
lin endearment. 

The  presence  of  the  Shoshonie  tribe  contri- 
buted occasionally  to  cause  temporary  jealousies 
and  feuds.  The  Shoshonie  beauties  became 
objects  of  rivalry  among  some  of  the  amorous 
mountaineers.  Happy  was  the  tiapper  who 
could  muster  up  a  red  blanket,  a  string  of  gay 
beads,  or  a  paper  of  precious  vermilion,  with 
which  to  win  the  smiles  of  a  Shoshonie  fair 
one. 

,  The  caravans  of  supplies  arrived  at  the  valley 
just  at  this  period  of  gallantry  and  good  fellow- 


in 


'1.»! 


"^cvcU^  and  J6itrava0ancc 


229 


ship.  Now  commenced  a  scene  of  eager  com- 
petition and  wild  prodigality  at  the  different 
encampments.  Bales  were  hastily  ripped  open, 
and  their  motley  contents  poured  forth.  A 
mania  for  purchasing  spread  itself  throughout 
the  several  bands — munitions  for  war,  for 
hunting,  for  gallantry,  were  seized  upon  with 
e'^ual  avidity — rifles,  hunting  knives,  traps, 
scarlet  cloth,  red  blankets,  gairish  beads,  and 
glittering  trinkets,  were  bought  at  any  price, 
and  scores  run  up  without  any  thought  how 
they  were  ever  to  be  rubbed  off.  The  free 
trappers,  especially,  were  extravagant  in  their 
purchases.  For  a  free  mountaineer  to  pause 
at  a  paltry  consideration  of  dollars  and  cents, 
in  the  attainment  of  any  object  that  might 
strike  his  fancy,  would  stamp  him  with  the 
mark  of  the  beast  in  the  estimation  of  his 
comrades.  For  a  trader  to  refuse  one  of  these 
free  and  flourishing  blades  a  credit,  whatever 
unpaid  scores  might  stare  him  in  the  face, 
would  be  a  flagrant  affront  scarcely  to  be 
forgiven. 

Now  succeeded  another  outbreak  of  revelry 
and  extravagance.  The  trappers  were  newly 
fitted  out  and  arrayed,  and  dashed  about  with 
their  horses  caparisoned  in  Indian  style.  The 
Shoshonie  beauties  also  flaunted  about  in  all 
the  colors  of  the   rainbow.     Every  freak  of 


:|j 


<i 


■ 


I 


I''" 


M 


330 


JBotmevtlle'0  Bdventures 


prodigality  was  indulged  to  its  full  extent,  and 
in  a  little  while  most  of  the  trappers,  baving 
squandered  away  sU  their  wages,  and  i^erhaps 
run  knee-deep  in  debt,  were  ready  for  another 
hard  campaign  in  the  wilderness. 

During  this  season  of  folly  and  irolic,  there 
was  an  alarm  of  mad  wolves  m  the  two  lower 
camps.  One  or  more  of  these  animals  entered 
the  camps  three  nights  successively,  and  bi' 
several  of  the  people. 

Captain  Bciinevilie  relates  the  case  of  am 
Indian,  who  was  a  universal  favorite  in  the 
lower  camp.  He  had  been  bitten  by  one  of 
these  animals.  Being  out  with  a  party  shortly 
afterwards,  he  grew  silent  and  gloomy,  and 
lagged  behind  the  rest  as  if  he  wished  to  leave 
them.  They  halted  and  urged  him  to  move 
faster,  but  he  entreated  them  not  to  approach 
him,  and,  leaping  from  his  horse,  began  to  roll 
frantically  on  the  earth,  gnashing  his  teeth  and 
foaming  at  the  mouth.  Still  he  retained  his 
senses,  and  warned  his  companions  not  to 
come  near  him,  as  he  should  not  be  able  to 
restrain  himself  from  biting  them.  They  hur- 
ried off  to  obtain  relief ;  but  on  their  return 
he  was  nowhere  to  be  found.  His  horse  and 
accoutrements  remained  upon  the  spot.  Three 
or  four  days  afterwards  a  solitary  Indian,  be- 
lieved to  be  the  same,  was  observed  crossing  a 


f)Cdropbol)fa 


231 


valley,  and  pursued  ;  but  he  darted  away  into 
the  fastnesses  of  the  mountains,  and  was  seen 
no  more. 

Another  instance  we  have  from  a  different 
person  who  was  present  in  the  encampment. 
One  of  the  men  of  the  Rocky  Mountain  Fur 
Company  had  been  bitten.  He  set  out  shortly 
afterwards,  in  company  with  two  white  men, 
on  his  return  to  the  settlements.  In  the  course 
of  a  few  days  he  showed  symptoms  of  hydro- 
phobia, and  became  raving  towards  night.  At 
length,  breaking  away  from  his  companions, 
he  rushed  into  a  thicket  of  willows,  where 
they  left  him  to  his  fate  ! 


ifi 


9 


11^ 


•; ' :! 


Cbaptcr  Jf  I. 

Schemes  of  Captain  Bonneville — The  Great  Salt  I^ake 
— Expedition  to  Explore  it  —  Preparations  for  a 
Journey  to  the  Bighorn. 

CAPTAIN  BONNEVII.LE  now  found 
himself  at  the  head  of  a  hardy,  well- 
seasoned  and  well-appointed  company 
of  trappers,  all  benefited  by  at  least  one  year's 
experience  among  the  mountains,  and  capable 
of  protecting  themselves  from  Indian  wiles 
and  stratagems,  and  of  providing  for  their  sub- 
sistence wherever  game  was  to  be  found.  He 
had,  also,  an  excellent  troop  of  horses,  in  prime 
condition,  and  fit  for  hard  service.  He  deter- 
mined, therefore,  to  strike  out  into  some  of  the 
bolder  parts  of  his  scheme.  One  of  these  was 
to  carry  his  expeditions  into  some  of  the  un- 
known tracts  of  the  Far  West,  beyond  what  is 
generally  termed  the  buffalo  range.  This  would 
have  something  of  the  merit  and  charm  of 
discovery,  so  dear  to  every  brave  and  adven- 

23a 


\ 


XTbe  (Breat  Salt  Xalte 


233 


turous  spirit.  Another  favorite  project  was  to 
establish  a  trading  post  on  the  lower  part  of 
the  Columbia  River,  near  the  Multnomah 
Valley,  and  to  endeavor  to  retrieve  for  his 
country  some  of  the  lost  trade  of  Astoria. 

The  first  of  the  above-mentioned  views  was, 
at  present,  uppermost  in  his  mind — the  explor- 
ing of  unknown  regions.  Among  the  grand 
features  of  the  wilderness  about  which  he  was 
roaming,  one  had  made  a  vivid  impression  on 
his  mind,  and  been  clothed  by  his  imagination 
with  vague  and  ideal  charms.  This  is  a  great 
lake  of  salt  water,  laving  the  feet  of  the  moun- 
tains, but  extending  far  to  the  west-southwest, 
into  one  of  those  vast  and  elevated  plateaus  of 
land,  which  range  high  above  the  level  of  the 
Pacific. 

Captain  Bonneville  gives  a  striking  account 
of  the  lake  when  seen  from  the  land.  As  you 
ascend  the  mountain  about  its  shores,  says  he, 
you  behold  this  immense  body  of  water  spread- 
ing itself  before  you,  and  stretching  farther  ar.d 
farther,  in  one  wide  and  far-reaching  expanse, 
until  the  eye,  wearied  with  continued  and 
strained  attention,  rests  in  the  blue  dimness 
oi  distance,  upon  lofty  ranges  of  mountains, 
confidently  asserted  to  rise  from  the  bosom  of 
the  waters.  Nearer  to  you,  the  smooth  and 
unruffled  surface  is  studded  with  little  islands, 


fi 


ii 


il 


If 


I 


( I 


if; 


i)ii< 


in 


w 


i' 


Hi 


Hi-'  i 


234 


JSonneviUe'0  BDventurcd 


where  the  mountain  sheep  roam  in  considerable 
numbers.  A'^hat  extent  of  lowland  may  be  en- 
compBvSsed  by  the  high  peaks  beyond,  must 
remain  for  the  present  matter  of  mere  conjec- 
ture ;  though  from  the  form  of  the  summits, 
and  the  breaks  which  may  be  discovered 
among  them,  there  can  be  little  doubt  that 
they  are  the  sources  of  streams  calculated  to 
water  large  tracts,  which  are  probably  con- 
cealed from  view  by  the  rotundity  of  the  lake's 
surface.  At  some  future  day,  in  all  probability, 
the  rich  harvest  of  beaver  fur  which  may  be 
reasonably  anticipated  in  such  a  spot,  will 
tempt  adventurers  to  reduce  all  this  doubtful  re- 
gion to  the  palpable  certainty  of  a  beaten  track. 
At  present,  however,  destitute  of  the  means 
of  making  boats,  the  trapper  stands  upon  the 
shore,  and  gazes  upon  a  promised  land  which 
his  feet  arc  never  to  tread. 

Such  is  the  somewhat  fanciful  view  which 
Captain  Bonneville  gives  of  .this  great  body  of 
water.  He  has  evidently  taken  part  of  his 
ideas  concerning  it  from  the  representations 
of  others,  who  have  somewhat  exaggerated  its 
features.  It  is  reported  to  be  about  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  miles  long,  and  fifty  miles  broad. 
The  ranges  of  mountain  peaks  which  Captain 
Bonneville  speaks  of,  as  rising  from  its  bosom, 
are  probably  the  summits  of  mountains  beyond 


III 


(Tbe  <3reat  Sa'   Xalte 


•35 


it,  which  may  be  visible  at  a  vast  distance, 
when  viewed  from  an  eminence,  in  the  trans- 
parent atmosphere  of  these  lofty  regions.  Sev- 
eral large  islands  certainly  exist  in  the  lake  ; 
one  of  which  is  said  to  be  mountainous,  but 
not  by  any  means  to  the  extent  required  to 
furnish  the  series  of  peaks  above  mentioned. 

Captain  Sublette,  in  one  of  his  early  expedi- 
tions across  the  mountains,  is  said  to  have 
sent  four  men  in  a  skin  canoe  to  explore  the 
lake,  who  professed  to  have  navigated  all 
round  it ;  but  to  have  suffered  excessively  from 
thirst,  the  water  of  the  lake  being  extremely 
salt,  and  there  being  no  fresh  streams  running 
into  it. 

Captain  Bonneville  doubts  this  report,  or 
that  the  men  accomplished  the  circumnaviga- 
tion, because,  he  says,  the  lake  receives  several 
large  streams  from  the  mountains  which  bound 
it  to  the  east.  In  the  spring,  when  the  streams 
are  swollen  by  rain  and  by  the  melting  of  the 
snows,  the  lake  rises  several  feet  above  its 
ordinary  level;  during  the  summer,  it  grad- 
ually subsides  again,  leaving  a  sparkling  zone 
of  the  finest  salt  upon  its  shores. 

The  elevation  of  the  vast  plateau  on  which 
this  lake  is  situated,  is  estimated  by  Captain 
Bonneville  at  one  and  three  fourths  of  a  mile 
above  the  level  of  the  ocean.     The  admirable 


I ' 


.  >i 


i\ 


!i; 


V) 

I 


ii.  'lil| 


236 


Xonnevillc*B  BOventured 


purity  and  transparency  of  the  atmosphere  in 
this  region,  allowing  objects  to  be  seen,  and 
the  report  of  fire-arms  to  be  heard,  at  an  aston- 
ishing distance ;  and  its  extreme  dryness, 
causing  the  wheels  of  wagons  to  fall  in  pieces, 
as  instanced  in  former  passages  of  this  work, 
are  proofs  of  the  great  altitude  of  the  Rocky 
Mountain  plains.  That  a  body  of  salt  water 
should  exist  at  such  a  height,  is  cited  as  a 
singular  phenomenon  by  Captain  Bonneville, 
though  the  salt  lake  of  Mexico  is  not  much 
inferior  in  elevation.* 

To  have  this  lake  properly  explored,  and  all 
its  secrets  revealed,  was  the  grand  scheme  of 
the  captain  for  the  present  year  ;  and  while  it 
was  one  in  which  his  imagination  evidently 
took  a  leading  part,  he  believed  it  would  be 
attended  with  great  profit,  from  the  numerous 
beaver  streams  with  which  the  lake  must  be 
fringed. 

This  momentous  undertaking  he  confided  to 
his  lieutenant,  Mr.  Walker,  in  whose  experi- 
ence and  ability  he  had  great  confidence.     He 

*  The  lake  of  Tezcuco,  which  surrounds  the  city  of 
Mexico,  the  largest  and  lowest  of  the  five  lakes  on  the 
Mexican  plateau,  and  one  of  the  most  impregnated 
with  saline  particles,  is  seven  thousand  four  hundred 
and  sixty-eight  feet,  or  nearly  one  mile  and  a  half 
above  the  level  of  the  sea. 


M 


£xplor(n0  parti; 


237 


instructed  him  to  keep  along  the  shores  of 
the  lake,  and  trap  in  all  the  streams  on  his 
route  ;  also  to  keep  a  journal,  and  minutely 
to  record  the  events  of  his  journey,  and  every- 
thing curious  or  interesting,  making  maps  or 
charts  of  his  route,  and  of  the  surrounding 
country. 

No  pains  nor  expense  were  spared  in  fitting 
out  the  party  of  forty  men,  which  he  was  to 
command.  They  had  complete  supplies  for  a 
year,  and  were  to  meet  Captain  Bonneville  in 
the  ensuing  summer,  in  the  valley  of  Bear 
River,  the  largest  tributary  of  the  Salt  Lake, 
which  was  to  be  his  point  of  general  rendez- 
vous. 

The  next  care  of  Captain  Bonneville,  was  to 
arrange  for  the  safe  transportation  of  the  pel- 
tries which  he  had  collected,  to  the  Atlantic 
States.  Mr.  Robert  Campbell,  the  partner  of 
Sublette,  was  at  this  time  in  the  rendezvous 
of  the  Rocky  Mountain  Fur  Company,  having 
brought  up  their  supplies.  He  was  about  to 
set  off  on  his  return,  with  the  peltries  collected 
during  the  year,  and  intended  to  proceed 
through  the  Crow  country,  to  the  head  of 
navigation  on  the  Bighorn  River,  and  to  de- 
scend in  boats  down  that  river,  the  Missouri, 
and  the  Yellowstone,  to  St.  Louis. 

Captain  Bonneville  determined  to  forward 


¥ 


1 5 
I  \ 


wk 

m 


238 


JSonncvillc'6  BOrcnturca 


his  peltries  by  the  same  route,  under  the  es- 
pecial care  of  Mr.  Cerr6.  By  way  of  escort, 
he  would  accompany  Cerr^  to  the  point  of  em- 
barkation, and  then  make  an  autumnal  hunt 
in  the  Crow  country 


■  fii 


1 . 


Cbapter  f  ri f . 

The  Crow  Country — A  Crow  Paradise — Habits  of  the 
Crows — Anecdotes  of  Rose,  the  Renegade  White 
Man — His  Fights  with  the  Blackfeet — His  Eleva- 
tion— His  Death — Arapooish,  the  Crow  Chief— His 
Eagle — Adventure  of  Robert  Campbell — Honor 
among  Crows. 

BEFORE  we  accompany  Captain  Bonne- 
ville into  the  Crow  country,  we  will 
impart  a  few  facts  about  this  wild  re- 
gion, and  the  wild  people  who  inhabit  it.  We 
are  not  aware  of  the  precise  boundaries,  if 
there  are  any,  of  the  country  claimed  by  the 
Crows  ;  it  appears  to  extend  from  the  Black 
Hills  to  the  Rocky  Mountains,  including  a 
part  of  their  lofty  ranges,  and  embracing  many 
of  the  plains  and  valleys  watered  by  the  Wind 
River,  the  Yellowstone,  the  Powder  River,  the 
Little  Missouri,  and  the  Nebraska.  The  coun- 
try varies  in  soil  and  climate  ;  there  are  vast 
plains  of  sand  and  clay,  studded  with  large 
red  sand-hills ;  other  parts  are  mountainous 

239 


III: 

■isi 


•A 


240 


JSonneville'd  BOventured 


:i: 


W: 


and  picturesque ;  it  possesses  warm  springs, 
and  coal  mines,  and  abounds  with  game. 

But  let  us  give  the  account  of  the  country, 
as  rendered  by  Arapooish,  a  Crow  chief,  to 
Mr.  Robert  Campbell,  of  the  Rocky  Mountain 
Fur  Company. 

"The  Crow  country,"  said  he,  "  is  a  good 
country.  The  Great  Spirit  has  put  it  exactly 
in  the  right  place  ;  while  you  are  in  it  you 
fare  well ;  whenever  you  go  out  of  it,  which- 
ever way  you  travel,  you  fare  worse. 

"  If  you  go  to  the  south,  you  have  to  wander 
over  great  barren  plains ;  the  water  is  warm 
and  bad,  and  you  meet  the  fever  and  ague. 

*'  To  the  north  it  is  cold  ;  the  winters  are  long 
and  bitter,  with  no  grass  ;  you  cannot  keep 
horses  there,  but  must  travel  with  dogs.  What 
is  a  country  without  horses  ? 

' '  On  the  Columbia  they  are  poor  and  dirty, 
paddle  about  in  canoes,  and  eat  fish.  Their 
teeth  are  worn  out ;  they  are  always  taking 
fish-bones  out  of  their  mouths.  Fish  is  poor 
food. 

"  To  the  east,  they  dwell  in  villages;  they 
live  well  ;  but  they  drink  the  muddy  water 
of  the  Missouri — that  is  bad.  A  Crow's  dog 
would  not  drink  such  water. 

"  About  the  forks  of  the  Missouri  is  a  fine 
country  ;  good  water ;  good  grass ;  plenty  of 


Zbe  Creu  Countri? 


241 


buffalo.  In  summer  it  is  almost  as  good  as 
the  Crow  country  ;  but  in  winter  it  is  cold  ; 
the  grass  is  gone  ;  and  there  is  no  salt  weed 
for  the  horses. 

"The  Crow  country  is  exactly  in  the  right 
place.  It  has  snowy  mountains  and  sunny 
plains  ;  all  kinds  of  climates,  and  good  things 
for  every  season.  When  the  summer  heats 
scorch  the  prairies,  you  can  draw  up  under 
the  mountains,  where  the  air  is  sweet  and  cool, 
the  grass  fresh,  and  the  bright  streams  come 
tumbling  out  of  the  snow-banks.  There  you 
can  hunt  the  elk,  the  deer,  and  the  antelope, 
when  their  skins  are  fit  fof  dressing  ;  there 
you  will  find  plenty  of  white  bears  and  moun- 
tain sheep. 

"In  the  autumn,  when  j^our  horses  are  fat 
and  strong  from  the  mountain  pastures,  you 
can  go  down  into  the  plains  and  hunt  the  buf- 
falo, or  trap  beaver  on  the  streams.  Aiid  when 
winter  comes  on,  you  can  take  shelter  in  the 
woody  bottoms  along  the  rivers ;  there  you 
will  find  buffalo  meat  for  yourselves,  and  cot- 
ton-wood bark  for  your  horses ;  or  you  may 
wintef  in  the  Wind  River  Valley,  where  there 
is  salt  weed  in  abundance. 

"The  Crow  country  is  exactly  in  the  right 
place.  Everything  gjod  is  to  be  found  there. 
There  is  no  country  like  the  Crow  country." 

VOL.  I.— 16 


H 


I 

k 

i 


242 


XonncvKlc*B  BDrenturcd 


1 
■J! 

1 

m 

t: 

1 

Such  is  the  eulogium  on  his  country  by 
Arapooish. 

We  have  had  repeated  occasions  to  speak  of 
the  restless  and  predatory  habits  of  the  Crows. 
They  can  muster  fifteen  hundred  fighting  men  ; 
but  their  incessant  wars  with  the  Blackfeet, 
aud  their  vagabond,  predatory  habits,  are 
gradually  wearing  them  out. 

In  a  recent  work,  we  related  the  circumstance 
of  a  white  man  named  Rose,  an  outlaw,  and  a 
designing  vagabond,  who  acted  as  guide  and 
niterpreter  to  Mr.  Hunt  and  his  party,  on  their 
journey  across  the  mountains  to  Astoria,  who 
came  near  betraying  them  into  the  hands  of 
the  Crows,  and  who  remained  among  the  tribe, 
marrying  one  of  their  women,  and  adopting 
their  congenial  habits.*  A  few  anecdotes  of 
the  subsequent  fortunes  of  that  renegade  may 
not  be  uninteresting,  especially  as  they  are  con- 
nected with  the  fortunes  of  the  tribe. 

RovSe  was  powerful  in  frame  and  fearless  in 
spirit ;  and  soon  by  his  daring  deeds  took  his 
rank  among  the  first  braves  of  the  tribe.  He 
aspired  to  c(ymmand,  and  knew  it  was  only  to 
be  attiined  by  desperate  exploits.  He  distin- 
guished himself  in  repeated  actions  v/ith  the 
Blackfeet.  On  one  ///casion,  a  band  of  those 
savages    had    fortifif-d    themselves    within    a 

*  See  Astoria.  . 


tRoec  tbe  Outlaw 


243 


breastwork,  and  could  not  be  harmed.  Rose 
proposed  to  storm  the  work.  "  Who  will  take 
the  lead?  "  was  the  demand.  **  I  !  "  cried  he 
and  putting  himself  at  their  head,  rushed  for- 
ward. The  first  Blackfoot  that  opposed  him 
he  shot  down  with  his  rifle,  and,  snatching  up 
the  war-club  of  his  victim,  killed  four  others 
within  the  fort.  The  victory  was  complete, 
and  Rose  returned  to  the  Crow  village  covered 
with  giory,  and  bearing  five  Blackfoot  scalps, 
to  be  erected  as  a  trophy  before  his  lodge. 
From  this  time,  he  was  known  among  the 
Crows  by  the  name  of  Chp-ku-kaats,  or  ' '  the 
man  who  killed  five.  * '  He  became  chief  of  the 
village,  or  rather  band,  and  for  a  time  was  the 
popular  idol.  His  popularity  soon  awakened 
envy  among  the  native  braves  ;  he  was  a  stran- 
ger, an  intruder,  a  white  man.  A  party  seceded 
from  his  command.  Feuds  and  civil  wars  suc- 
ceeded that  lasted  for  two  or  three  years,  until 
Rose,  having  contrived  to  set  his  adopted 
brethren  by  the  ears,  left  them,  and  went  down 
the  Missouri  in  1823.  Here  he  fell  in  with  one 
of  the  earliest  tiapping  expeditions  sent  by 
General  Ashley  across  the  mountains.  It  was 
conducted  by  Smith,  Fitzpatrick,  aiid  Sublette. 
Rose  enlisted  with  them  as  guide  and  inter- 
preter. When  he  got  them  among  the  Crows, 
he  was  exceedingly  generous  with  their  goods  ; 


St. 


■  iM 


244 


IDonncx^fllc'i^  Bdventtircs 


making  presents  to  the  braves  of  his  adopted 
tribe,  as  became  a  high-minded  chief. 

This,  doubtless,  helped  to  revive  his  popu- 
larity. In  that  expedition,  Smith  and  Fitz- 
patrick  were  robbed  of  their  horses  in  Green 
River  Valley  ;  the  place  where  the  robbery  took 
place  still  bears  the  name  of  Honse  Creek. 
We  are  not  informed  whether  the  horses  were 
.stolen  through  the  instigation  and  management 
of  Rose  ;  it  is  not  improbable,  for  such  was  the 
perfidy  he  had  intended  to  practise  on  a  former 
cjccasion  towards  Mr.  Hunt  and  his  party. 

The  last  anecdote  we  have  of  Rose  is  from 
an  Indian  trader.  When  General  Atkinson 
made  his  military  expedition  up  the  Missouri, 
in  1825,  to  protect  the  fur  trade,  he  held  a  con- 
ference with  the  Crow  nation,  at  which  Rose 
figured  as  Indian  dignitary  and  Crow  inter- 
preter. The  military  were  stationed  at  some 
little  distance  from  the  scene  of  the  **  big  talk  "  ; 
w^hile  the  general  and  the  chiefs  were  smoking 
pipes  and  making  speeches,  the  officers,  sup- 
posing all  was  friendly,  left  the  troops,  and 
drew  near  the  scene  of  ceremonial.  Some  of 
the  more  knowing  Crows,  perceiving  this,  stole 
quietly  to  camp,  and,  unobserved,  contrived  to 
stop  the  touch-holes  of  the  field-pieces  with 
dirt.  Shortly  after,  a  misunderstanding  oc- 
curred in  the  conference  ;  some  of  the  Indians, 


lli^- 


1R06C*6  pOUCI? 


245 


knowing  the  cannon  to  be  useless,  became  in- 
solent. A  tumult  arose.  In  the  confusion, 
Colonel  O' Fallon  snapped  a  pistol  in  the  lace 
of  a  brave,  and  knocked  him  down  with  the 
butt  end.  The  Crows  were  all  in  a  fury.  A 
chance-medley  fight  was  on  the  point  of  taking 
place,  when  Rose,  his  natural  sympathies  as  a 
white  man  suddenlj^  recurring,  broke  the  stock 
of  his  fusee  over  the  head  of  a  Crow  warrior, 
and  laid  so  vigorously  about  him  with  the  bar- 
rel, that  he  soon  put  the  whole  throng  to  flight. 
I^uckily,  as  no  lives  had  been  lost,  this  sturdy 
rib-roasting  calmed  the  fury  of  the  Crows,  and 
the  tumult  ended  without  serious  consequences. 

What  was  the  ultimate  fate  of  this  vagabond 
hero  is  not  distinct!)^  known.  Some  report  him 
to  have  fallen  a  victim  to  disease,  brought  on 
bv  his  licentious  life  ;  others  assert  that  he  w^as 
murdered  in  a  feud  among  the  Crows.  After 
all,  his  residence  among  thee'  savages,  and  the 
influence  he  acquired  over  them,  had,  for  a 
time,  some  beneficial  effects.  He  is  said,  not 
merely  to  have  rendered  them  more  formidable 
to  the  Blackfeet,  but  to  have  opened  their  eyes 
to  the  policy  of  cultivating  the  friendship  of  the 
white  men. 

After  Rose's  death,  his  policy  ccntinued  to 
be  cultivated,  with  indifferent  success,  by 
Arapooisli,  the  chief  already  mentioned,  who 


:M. 


3  si 


346 


JSonneville'd  'B^vcntntce 


W\ 


'I'i 


I ': 


:  hi'! 


I 


Ui.i 


i .  1 , . 


Jin 


had  been  his  great  fnond,  and  whose  character 
he  had  contributed  to  develop.  This  sagacious 
chief  endeavored,  on  every  occasion,  to  restrain 
the  predatory  propensities  of  his  tribe  when 
directed  against  the  white  men.  "  If  we  keep 
friends  with  them,"  said  he,  "  we  have  nothing 
to  fear  from  the  Black  feet,  and  can  rule  the 
mountains."  Arapooish  pretended  to  be  a 
great  "medicine  man"  ;  a  character  among 
the  Indians  which  is  a  compound  of  priest,  doc- 
tor, prophet,  and  conjuror.  He  carried  about 
with  him  a  tame  eagle,  as  his  "  medicine  "  or 
familiar.  With  the  white  men,  he  acknowl- 
edged that  this  was  all  charlatanism  ;  but  said 
it  was  necessary,  to  give  him  weight  and  influ- 
ence among  his  people. 

Mr.  Robert  Campbell,  from  whom  we  have 
most  of  these  facts,  in  the  course  of  one  of  his 
trapping  expeditions,  was  quartered  in  the  vil- 
lage of  Arapooish,  and  a  guest  in  the  lodge  of 
the  chieftain.  He  had  collected  a  large  quan- 
tity of  furs,  and,  fearful  of  being  plundered, 
deposited  but  a  part  in  the  lodge  of  the  chief; 
the  rest  he  buried  in  a  cac/ie.  One  night,  Ara- 
pooish came  into  the  lodge  with  a  cloudy  brow, 
and  seated  himself  for  a  time  without  saying  a 
word.  At  length,  turning  to  Campbell,  **You 
have  more  furs  with  you,"  said  he,  **  than  you 
have  brought  into  my  lodge  ?" 


(( 


It 


1  J*- 


Campbcire  B^pe^ture 


247 


<( 


<< 


I  have,"  replied  Campbell. 
Where  are  they?" 

Campbell  knew  the  uselessness  of  any  pre- 
varication with  an  Indian  ;  and  the  importance 
of  complete  frankness.  He  described  the  exact 
place  where  he  had  concealed  his  peltries. 

"  'T  is  well,"  replied  Arapooish  ;  "  you  speak 
straight.  It  is  just  as  you  say.  But  your  cache 
has  been  robbed.  Go  and  see  how  many  skins 
have  been  taken  from  it." 

Campbell  examined  the  cache,  and  estimated 
his  loss  to  be  about  one  hundred  and  fifty 
beaver  skins. 

Arapooish  now  summoned  a  meeting  of  the 
village.  He  bitterly  reproached  his  people  for 
robbing  a  stranger  who  had  confided  to  their 
honor ;  and  commanded  that  whoever  had 
taken  the  skins,  should  bring  them  back  ; 
declaring  that,  as  Campbell  was  his  guest  and 
inmate  of  his  lodge,  he  would  not  eat  nor  drink 
until  every  skin  was  restored  to  him. 

The  meeting  broke  up,  and  every  one  dis- 
persed. Arapooish  now  charged  Campbell  to 
give  neitlier  reward  nor  thanks  to  any  one  who 
should  bring  in  the  beaver  skins,  but  to  keep 
count  as  thej^  were  delivered. 

In  a  little  while,  the  skins  began  to  make 
their  appearance,  «  few  at  a  time;  they  were^ 
laid  down  in  the  lodge,  and  those  who  brought 


-t'  \ 


4* 


!rt 


h 


ii"i 


;SM 


:H;i 


!' 


ifii 


ii: 


^1:fl^ 


If! 


248 


JScnncvlUc'a  BDrcnturca 


them  departLcl  itliout  saying  a  word.  The 
day  passed  away.  Arapooish  sat  in  one  cur- 
lier of  his  lodge,  wrapped  up  in  his  robe, 
scarcely  moving  a  muscle  of  his  countenance. 
When  night  arrived,  he  demanded  if  all  the 
skins  had  been  brought  in.  Above  a  hundred 
had  been  given  up,  and  Campbell  expressed 
himself  contented.  Not  so  the  Crow  chieftain. 
He  fasted  all  that  night,  nor  tasted  a  drop  of 
water.  In  the  morning,  .some  more  skins  were 
brought  in,  and  continued  to  come,  one  and 
two  at  a  time,  throughout  the  day  ;  until  but  a 
few  were  wanting  to  make  the  number  com- 
plete. Campbell  was  now  anxious  to  put  an 
end  to  this  ft  sting  of  the  old  chief,  and  declared 
that  he  wa;i  TJerfectly  satisfied.  Arapooish 
demanded  whiit  number  of  skins  were  yet 
wanting.  O  5  being  told,  he  whispered  to  some 
of  his  people,  who  disappeared.  After  a  time 
the  number  were  brought  in,  though  it  was 
evident  they  were  not  any  of  the  skins  that 
had  been  stolen,  but  others  gleaned  in  the  vil- 
lage. , 

**  Is  all  right  now?"  demanded  Arapooish. 

"  All  is  right,"  replied  Campbell. 

*  *  Good  '     Now  bring  me  meat  and  drink  ! '  * 

When  they  were  alone  together,  Arapooish 
had  a  conversation  with  his  guest.  v 

''When  you  come  another  time  among  the 


■'    ?■: 


fyonot  among  Crow 


249 


Crows,"  said  he,  "don't  hide  yoir  gotxls; 
trust  to  them  and  they  will  not  wroii^  you. 
Put  your  goods  in  the  Icxlge  of  a  chief,  and 
they  are  sacred  ;  hide  them  in  a  cacAc,  and  any 
one  who  finds  them  will  steal  them.  My  peo- 
ple have  now  given  up  your  goods  io^  my  sake  ; 
but  there  are  some  foolish  yoin^  en  in  the 
village,  who   may  be  disposea  )uble- 

some.     Don't  linger,  therefore,  L  .  your 

horses  and  be  off." 

Campbell  took  his  advice,  and  made  his  way 
safely  out  of  the  Crow  country.  He  has  ever 
since  maintained,  that  the  Crows  are  not  so 
black  as  they  are  paint jd.  "Trust  to  their 
honor,"  says  he,  "  and  you  are  safe  ;  trust  to 
their  honesty,  and  they  will  steal  the  hair  off 
of  your  head." 

Having  given  these  few  preliminary  particu- 
lars, we  will  resume  the  course  of  our  narrative. 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


11.25 


VilM   lu 

■^  Itt   12.2 

£!  1^   12.0 


I 


LA.  11.6 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STHET 

WIBSTIR.N.Y.  MSSO 

(71«)t72-4S03 


^\ 


4 


o 


V 


^^% 


o^ 


(J 


c\ 


IP 


m 


Cbaptcr  f  f  f  f  f  • 

Departure  from  Green  River  Valley — Popo  Agie — Its 
Course — The  Rivers  into  which  it  Runs — Scenery 
of  the  Bluffs— The  Great  Tar  Spring— Volcanic 
Tracts  in  the  Crow  Country — Burning  Mountain  of 
Powder  River — Sulphur  Springs — Hidden  Fires — 
Colter's  Hell— Wind  River— Campbell's  Party— 
Fitzpatrick  and  his  Trappers — Captain  Stewart,  an 
Amateur  Traveller — Nathaniel  Wyeth— Anecdotes 
of  his  Expedition  to  the  Far  West — Disaster  of 
Campbell's  Party— A  Union  of  Bands—The  Bad 
Pass — ^The  Rapids — Departure  of  Fitzpatrick — Em- 
barkation of  Peltries — ^Wyeth  and  his  Bull  Boat — 
Adventures  of  Captain  Bonneville  in  the  Bighorn 
Mountains — Adventures  in  the  Plain — Traces  of  In> 
dians — Travelling  Precautions — Dangers  of  Making 
a  Smoke — ^The  Rendezvous. 

ON  the  25th  of  July,  Captain  Bonneville 
struck  his  tents,  and  set  out  on  his  route 
for  the  Bighorn,  at  the  head  of  a  party 
of  fifty  six  men,  including  those  who  were  to 
embark  with  Cerrfe.  Crossing  the  Green  River 
Valley,  he  proceeded  along  the  south  point  of 
the  Wind  River  range  of  mountains,  and  soon 

250 


do\ 
sou 
pos 
nor 


Zbe  popo  B0fe 


251 


fell  upon  the  track  of  Mr.  Robert  CanipDell  s 
party,  which  had  preceded  him  by  a  day. 
This  he  pursued,  until  he  perceived  that  it  led 
down  the  banks  of  the  Sweet  Water  to  the 
southeast.  As  this  was  different  from  his  pro- 
posed direction,  he  left  it ;  and  turning  to  the 
northeast,  soon  came  upon  the  waters  of  the 
Popo  Agie.  This  stream  takes  its  rise  in  the 
Wind  River  Mountains.  Its  name,  like  most 
Indian  names,  is  characteristic.  Pofio,  in  the 
Crow  language,  signifying  head ;  and  ^^ic, 
river.  It  is  the  head  of  a  long  river,  extending 
from  the  south  end  of  the  Wind  River  Moun- 
tains in  a  northeast  direction,  until  it  falls 
into  the  Yellowstone.  Its  course  is  generally 
through  plains,  but  is  twice  crossed  by  chains 
of  mountains ;  the  first  called  the  Littlehorn, 
the  second,  the  Bighorn.  After  it  has  forced 
its  way  through  the  first  chain,  it  is  called  the 
Horn  River  ;  after  the  second  chain,  it  is  called 
the  Bighorn  River.  Its  passage  through  this 
last  chain  is  rough  and  violent;  making  re- 
peated falls,  and  rushing  down  long  and  furious 
rapids,  which  threatened  destruction  to  the 
navigator  ;  though  a  hardy  trapper  is  said  to 
have  shot  down  them  in  a  canoe.  At  the  foot 
of  these  rapids,  is  the  head  of  navigation  ; 
where  it  was  the  intention  of  the  parties  to 
construct  boats,  and  embark. 


252 


J9onneville'0  SOvcntures 


I 


P  I'ii 


■'ji"! 


Proceeding  down  along  the  Popo  Agie,  Cap- 
tain Bonneville  came  again  in  full  view  of  the 
"Bluffs,"  as  they  are  called,  extending  from 
the  base  of  the  Wind  River  Mountains  far 
away  to  the  east,  and  presenting  to  the  eye  a 
confusion  of  hills  and  cliffs  of  red  sandstone, 
some  peaked  and  angular,  some  round,  some 
broken  into  crags  and  precipices,  and  piled  up 
in  fantastic  masses  ;  but  all  naked  and  sterile. 
There  appeared  to  be  no  soil  favorable  to  vege- 
tation, nothing  but  coarse  gravel ;  yet,  over 
ail  this  isolated,  barren  landscape,  were  diffused 
such  atmospherical  tints  and  hues,  as  to  blend 
the  whole  into  harmony  and  beauty. 

In  this  neighborhood,  the  captain  made 
search  for  the  **  Great  Tar  Spring,"  one  of 
the  wonders  of  the  mountains ;  the  medicinal 
properties  of  which,  he  had  heard  extravagantly 
lauded  by  the  trappers.  After  a  toilsome 
search,  he  found  it  at  the  foot  of  a  sand-bluff, 
a  little  to  the  east  of  the  Wi;  River  Moun- 
tains ;  where  it  exuded  in  a  small  stream  of 
the  color  and  consistenc  '  of  tar.  The  men  im- 
mediately  hastened  to  collect  a  quantity  of  it 
to  use  as  an  ointment  for  the  galled  backs  of 
their  horses,  and  as  a  balsam  for  their  own 
pains  and  aches.  From  the  description  given 
of  it,  it  is  evidently  the  bituminous  oil,  called 
petroleum  or  naphtha,  which  forms  a  principal 


Vlatural  CurioeUfea 


253 


ingredient  in  the  potent  medicine  called  British 
Oil.  It  is  found  in  various  parts  of  Europe 
and  Asia,  in  several  of  the  West  India  islands, 
and  in  some  places  of  the  United  States.  In 
the  State  of  New  York,  it  is  called  Seneca  Oil, 
from  being  found  near  the  Seneca  I^ake. 

The  Crow  country  has  other  natural  curiosi- 
ties, which  are  held  in  superstitious  awe  by  the 
Indians,  and  considered  great  marvels  by  the 
trappers.  Such  is  the  burning  mountain,  on 
Powder  River,  abounding  with  anthracite  coal. 
Here  the  earth  is  hot  and  cracked ;  in  many 
places  emitting  smoke  and  sulphurous  vapors, 
as  if  covering  concealed  fires.  A  volcanic 
tract  of  similar  character  is  found  on  Stinking 
River,  one  of  the  tributaries  of  the  Bighorn, 
which  takes  its  unhappy  name  from  the  odor 
derived  from  sulphurous  springs  and  streams. 
This  last-mentioned  place  was  first  discovered 
by  Colter,  a  hunter  belonging  to  Lewis  and 
Clarke's  exploring  party,  who  came  upon  it  in 
the  course  of  his  lonely  wanderings,  and  gave 
such  an  account  of  its  gloomy  terrors,  its  hid- 
den fires,  smoking  pits,  noxious  streams,  and 
the  all-pervading  "smell  of  brimstone,"  that 
it  received,  and  has  ever  since  retained  among 
trappers,  the  name  of  *'  Colter's  Hell !  " 

Resuming  his  descent  along  the  left  bank  of 
the  Popo  Agie,  Captain  Bonneville  soon  reached 


254 


Xonncviilc'B  Ubvcnxwcs 


iii    '  ■ 


the  plains ;  where  he  found  several  large 
streams  entering  from  the  west.  Among  these 
was  Wind  River,  which  gives  its  name  to  the 
mountains  among  which  it  takes  its  rise.  This 
is  one  of  the  most  important  streams  of  the 
Crow  country.  The  river  being  much  swollen, 
Captain  Bonneville  halted  at  its  mouth,  and 
sent  out  scouts  to  look  for  a  fording  place. 
While  thus  encamped,  he  beheld  in  the  course 
of  the  afternoon,  a  long  line  of  horsemen  de- 
scending the  slope  of  the  hills  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  Popo  Agie.  His  first  idea  was, 
that  they  were  Indians ;  he  soon  discovered, 
however,  that  they  were  white  men,  and,  by 
the  long  line  of  pack-horses,  ascertained  them 
to  be  the  convoy  of  Campbell,  which,  having 
descended  the  Sweet  Water,  was  now  on  its 
way  to  the  Horn  River. 

The  two  parties  came  together  two  or  three 
days  afterwards,  on  the  4th  of  August,  after 
having  passed  through  the  gap  of  the  Little- 
horn  Mountain.  In  company  with  Campbell's 
convoy,  was  a  trapping  party  of  the  Rocky 
Mountain  Company,  headed  by  Fitzpatrick ; 
who,  after  Campbell's  embarkation  on  the  Big- 
horn, was  to  take  charge  of  all  the  horses,  and 
proceed  on  a  trapping  campaign.  There  were, 
moreover,  two  chance  companions  in  the  rival 
camp.     One  was  Captain  Stewart  of  the  Brit- 


Aeettng  witb  CanipbcU 


255 


ish  army,  a  gentleman  of  noble  connections, 
who  was  amusing  himself  by  a  wandering  tour 
in  the  Far  West ;  in  the  course  of  which,  he 
had  lived  in  hunter's  style ;  accompanying 
various  bands  of  traders,  trappers,  and  Indians  ; 
and  manifesting  that  relish  for  the  wilderness 
that  belongs  to  men  of  game  and  spirit. 

The  other  casual  inmate  of  Mr.  Campbell's 
camp  was  Mr.  Nathaniel  Wyeth  ;  the  self-same 
leader  of  the  band  of  New  England  salmon 
fishers,  with  whom  we  parted  company  in  the 
valley  of  Pierre's  Hole,  after  the  battle  with 
the  Blackfeet.  A  few  days  after  that  affair,  he 
again  set  out  from  the  rendezvous  in  company 
with  Milton  Sublette  and  his  brigade  of  trap- 
pers. On  his  march,  he  visited  the  battle 
ground,  and  penetrated  to  the  deserted  fort  of 
the  Blackfeet  in  the  midst  of  the  wood.  It 
was  a  dismal  scene.  The  fort  was  strewed 
with  the  mouldering  bodies  of  the  slain  ;  while 
vultures  soared  aloft,  or  sat  brooding  on  the 
trees  around ;  and  Indian  dogs  howled  about 
the  place,  as  if  bewailing  the  death  of  their 
masters.  Wyeth  travelled  for  a  considerable 
distance  to  the  southwest,  in  company  with 
Milton  Sublette,  when  they  separated ;  and 
the  former,  with  eleven  men,  the  remnant  of 
his  band,  pushed  on  for  Snake  River;  kept 
down    the    course  of  that   eventful    stream  ; 


^1 


1:: 


M 


n 


m 


5.    / 


■  ( 


!■  .        !■ 


%   .       :':.( 


356 


JSonnei^flle'e  Bdventuree 


traversed  the  Blue  Mountains,  trapping  beaver 
occasionally  by  the  way,  and  finally,  after 
hardships  of  all  kinds,  arrived,  on  the  29th  of 
October,  at  Vancouver,  on  the  Columbia,  the 
main  factory  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company. 
He  experienced  hospitable  treatment  at  the 
hands  of  the  agents  of  that  company  ;  but  his 
men,  heartily  tired  of  wandering  in  the  wil- 
derness, or  tempted  by  other  prospects,  re- 
fused, for  the  most  part,  to  continue  any  longer 
in  his  service.  Some  set  oflf  for  the  Sandwich 
Islands ;  some  entered  into  other  employ. 
Wyeth  found,  too,  that  a  great  part  of  the 
goods  he  had  brought  with  him  were  unfitted 
for  the  Indian  trade;  in  a  word,  his  expedi- 
tion, undertaken  entirely  on  his  own  resources, 
proved  a  failure.  He  lost  everything  invested 
in  it,  but  his  hopes.  These  were  as  strong  as 
ever.  He  took  note  of  everything,  therefore, 
that  could  be  of  service  to  him  in  the  further 
prosecution  of  his  project ;  collected  all  the 
information  within  his  reach,  and  then  set  off, 
accompanied  by  merely  two  men,  on  his  re- 
turn journey  across  the  continent.  He  had 
got  thus  far,  *'  by  hook  and  by  crook,"  a  mode 
in  which  a  New  England  man  can  make  his 
way  all  over  the  world,  and  through  all  kinds 
of  difficulties,  and  was  now  bound  for  Boston, 
in  full  confidence  of  being  able  to  form  a  com- 


Sleaater  ot  Campbeira  parti? 


257 


pany  for  the  salmon  fishery  and  fur  trade  of 
the  Columbia. 

The  party  of  Mr.  Campbell  had  met  with  a 
disaster  in  the  course  of  their  route  from  the 
Sweet  Water.  Three  or  four  of  the  men,  who 
were  reconnoitring  the  country  in  the  advance 
of  the  main  body,  were  visited  one  night  in 
their  camp,  by  fifteen  or  twenty  Shoshonies. 
Considering  this  tribe  as  perfectly  friendly, 
they  received  them  in  the  most  cordial  and 
confiding  manner.  In  the  course  of  the  night, 
the  man  on  guard  near  the  horses  fell  sound 
asleep  ;  upon  which  a  Shoshonie  shot  him  in 
the  head,  and  nearly  killed  him.  The  sav- 
ages then  made  off  with  the  horses,  leaving 
the  rest  of  the  party  to  find  their  way  to  the 
main  body  on  foot. 

The  rival  companies  of  Captain  Bonneville 
and  Mr.  Campbell,  thus  fortuitously  brought 
together,  now  prosecuted  their  journey  in  great 
good  fellowship,  forming  a  joint  camp  of  about 
a  hundred  men.  The  captain,  howevei,  began 
to  entertain  doubts  that  Fitzpatrick  and  his 
trappers,  who  kept  profound  silence  as  to  their 
future  movements,  intended  to  hunt  the  same 
grounds  which  he  had  selected  for  his  autumnal 
campaign,  which  lay  to  the  west  of  the  Horn 
River,  on  its  tributary  streams.  In  the  course 
of  his  march,  therefore,  he  secretly  detached 

vot.  I.— 17 


358 


JSonneviUe'0  Bdvcnturee 


h   i\i 


iii' 


r',    -i 


a  small  party  of  trappers,  to  make  their  way  tn 
those  hunting  grounds,  while  he  continued  on 
with  the  main  body  ;  appointing  a  rendezvous, 
at  the  next  full  moon,  about  the  28th  of  Au- 
gust, at  a  place  called  the  Medicine  Lodge. 

On  reaching  the  second  chain,  called  the  Big- 
horn Mountains,  where  the  river  forced  its  im- 
petuous way  through  a  precipitous  defile,  with 
cascades  and  rapids,  the  travellers  were  obliged 
to  leave  its  banks,  and  traverse  the  mountains 
by  a  rugged  and  frightful  route,  emphatically 
called  the  "  Bad  Pass."  Descending  the  oppo- 
site side,  they  again  made  for  the  river  banks  ; 
and  about  the  middle  of  August  reached  the 
point  below  the  rapids  where  the  river  becomes 
navigable  for  boats.  Here  Captain  Bonneville 
detached  a  second  party  of  trappers,  consisting 
of  ten  men,  to  seek  and  join  those  whom  he 
had  detached  while  on  the  route,  appointing 
for  them  the  same  rendezvous  (at  the  Medicine 
lyodge),  on  the  28th  of  August. 

All  hands  now  set  to  work  to  construct  "  bull 
boats,"  as  they  are  technically  called  ;  a  light, 
fragile  kind  of  bark,  characteristic  of  the  ex- 
pedients and  inventions  of  the  wilderness ; 
being  formed  of  buffalo  skins,  stretched  on 
frames.  They  are  sometimes,  also,  called  skin 
boats.  Wyeth  was  the  first  ready  ;  and,  with 
his  usual  promptness  and  hardihood,  launched 


Departure  of  #lt3patrfcfi 


259 


his  frail  bark,  singly,  on  this  wild  and  hazard- 
ous voyage,  down  an  almost  interminable  suc- 
cession of  rivers,  winding  through  countries 
teeming  with  savage  hordes.  Milton  Sublette, 
his  former  fellow-traveller,  and  his  companion 
in  the  battle  scenes  of  Pierre's  Hole,  took  pas- 
sage in  his  boat.  His  crew  consisted  of  two 
white  men  and  two  Indians.  We  shall  hear 
further  of  Wyeth,  and  his  wild  voyage,  in  the 
course  of  our  wanderings  about  the  Far  West. 

The  remaining  parties  soon  completed  their 
several  armaments.  That  of  Captain  Bonne- 
ville was  composed  of  three  bull  boats,  in  which 
he  embarked  all  his  peltries,  giving  them  in 
charge  of  Mr.  Cerr^,  with  a  party  of  thirty-six 
men.  Mr.  Campbell  took  command  of  his  own 
boats,  and  the  little  squadrons  were  soon  glid- 
ing down  the  bright  current  of  the  Bighorn. 

The  secret  precautions  which  Captain  Bonne- 
ville had  taken,  to  throw  his  men  first  into  the 
trapping  ground  west  of  the  Bighorn,  were, 
probably,  superfluous.  It  did  not  appear  that 
Fitzpatrick  had  intended  to  hunt  in  that  direc- 
tion. The  moment  Mr.  Campbell  and  his  men 
embarked  with  the  peltries,  Fitzpatrick  took 
charge  of  all  the  horses,  amounting  to  above  a 
hundred,  and  struck  off  to  the  east,  to  trap 
upon  Littlehom,  Powder,  and  Tongue  rivers. 
He  was  accompanied  by  Captain  Stewart,  who 


''  It' 


260 


JSonncvillc'd  B^venturea 


:'/'.  ! 


was  desirous  of  having  a  range  about  the  Crow 
country.  Of  tlie  adventures  they  met  with  in 
that  region  of  vagabonds  and  horse  stealers, 
we  shall  have  something  to  relate  hereafter. 

Captain  Bonneville  being  now  left  to  prose- 
cute his  trapping  campaign  without  rivalry, 
set  out,  on  the  17th  of  August,  for  the  rendez- 
vous at  Medicine  Lodge.  He  had  but  four 
men  remaining  with  him,  and  forty-six  horses 
to  take  care  of ;  with  these  he  had  to  make  his 
way  over  mountain  and  plain,  through  a  ma- 
rauding, horse-stealing  region,  full  of  peril  for 
a  numerous  cavalcade  so  slightly  manned.  He 
addressed  himself  to  his  difficult  journey,  how- 
ever, with  his  usual  alacrity  of  spirit. 

In  the  afternoon  of  his  first  day's  journey, 
on  drawing  near  to  the  Bighorn  Mountain,  on 
the  summit  of  which  he  intended  to  encamp 
for  the  night,  he  obser\'ed,  to  his  disquiet,  a 
cloud  of  smoke  rising  from  its  base.  He  came 
to  a  halt,  and  watched  it  anxiously.  It  was 
very  irregular ;  sometimes  it  would  almost  die 
away  ;  and  then  would  mount  up  in  heavy 
volumes.  There  was,  apparently,  alargepart''- 
encamped  there  ;  probably,  some  ruffian  horde 
of  Blackfeet.  At  any  rate,  it  would  not  do  for 
so  small  a  number  of  men,  with  so  numerous  a 
cavalcade,  to  venture  within  sight  of  any  wan- 
dering tribe.      Captain    Bonneville   and   his 


,ii 


TCravellirtd  precautions 


261 


companions,  therefore,  avoided  this  dangerous 
neighborhood,  and,  proceedin'j  with  extreme 
caution,  reached  the  summit  of  the  mountain, 
apparently  without  being  discovered.  Here 
they  found  a  deserted  Black  foot  fort,  in  which 
they  ensconced  themselves ;  disposed  of  every- 
thing as  s  :curely  as  possible,  and  passed  the 
night  without  molestation.  Early  the  next 
morning  they  descended  the  south  side  of 
the  mountain  into  the  great  plain  extending 
between  it  and  the  Littlehorn  range.  Here 
they  soon  came  upon  numerous  footprints, 
and  the  carcasses  of  buffaloes  ;  by  which  they 
knew  there  must  be  Indians  not  far  off.  Cap- 
tain Bonneville  now  began  to  feel  solicitude 
about  the  two  small  parties  of  trappers  which 
he  had  detached  ;  lest  the  Indians  should  have 
come  upon  them  before  they  had  united  their 
forces.  But  he  still  felt  more  solicitude  about 
his  own  party ;  for  it  was  hardly  to  be  ex- 
pected he  could  traverse  these  naked  plains 
undiscovered,  when  Indians  were  abroad  ;  and 
should  he  be  discovered,  his  chance  would  be 
a  desperate  one.  Everything  now  depended 
upon  the  greatest  circumspection.  It  was 
dangerous  to  discharge  a  gun,  or  light  a  fire, 
or  make  the  least  noise,  where  such  quick- 
eared  and  quick-sighted  enemies  were  at  hand. 
In  the  course  of  the  day  they  saw  indubitable 


\i, 


2C2 


Xonncvillc*e  SDventure^ 


!-.i 


ti' 


hi  ! 


signs  that  the  buffalo  had  been  roaming  there 
in  great  numbers,  and  had  recently  been 
frightened  away.  That  night  they  encamped 
with  the  greatest  care  ;  and  threw  up  a  strong 
breastwork  for  their  protection. 

For  the  two  succeeding  days  they  pressed 
forward  rapidly,  but  cautiously,  across  the 
great  plain  ;  fording  the  tributary  streams  of 
the  Horn  River ;  encamping  one  night  among 
thickets ;  the  next,  on  an  island ;  meeting, 
repeatedly,  with  traces  of  Indians ;  and  now 
and  then,  in  passing  through  a  defile,  experi- 
encing alarms  that  induced  them  to  cock  their 
rifles. 

On  the  last  day  of  their  march  hunger  got 
the  better  of  their  caution,  and  they  shot  a  fine 
buffalo  bull  at  the  risk  of  being  betrayed  by 
the  report.  They  did  not  halt  to  make  a  meal, 
but  carried  the  meat  on  with  them  to  the  place 
of  rendezvous,  the  Medicine  Lodge,  where  they 
arrived  safely,  in  the  evening,  and  celebrated 
their  arrival  by  a  hearty  supper. 

The  next  morning  they  erected  a  strong  pen 
for  the  horses,  and  a  fortress  of  logs  for  them- 
selves ;  and  continued  to  observe  the  greatest 
caution.  Their  cooking  was  all  done  at  mid- 
day when  the  fire  makes  no  glare,  and  a 
moderate  smoke  cannot  be  perceived  at  any 
great  distance.     In  the  mOrning  and  evening. 


Brrii^al  ot  S)etacbnient0 


263 


when  the  wind  is  lulled,  the  smoke  rises  per- 
pendicularly in  a  blue  column,  or  floats  in 
light  clouds  above  the  tree-tops,  and  can  be 
discovered  from  afar. 

In  this  way  the  little  party  remained  for 
several  days,  cautiously  encamped,  until,  on 
the  29th  August,  the  two  detachments  they 
had  been  expecting,  arrived  together  at  the 
rendezvous.  They,  as  usual,  had  their  several 
tales  of  adventures  to  relate  to  the  captain, 
which  we  will  furnish  to  the  reader  in  the  next 
chapter. 


1^: 

hi 


liiMii 

,:-]     ■                '•' 

I 


1^   ;        i  i-Mw 

if  p- 

'^L     ': 

.1:     '.               i           . 

IK.     ; ! 

Ili  .    '    ; 

||[i-!i 

Cbapter  f  n V. 

Adventures  of  the  Party  of  Ten — The  Balaatnite  Mule 
—A  Dead  Point— The  Mysterious  Elks— A  Night 

'  Attack — ^A  Retreat — Travelling  under  an  Alarm-^ 
A  Joyful  Meeting — Adventures  of  the  Other  Party — 
A  Decoy  Elk — Retreat  to  an  Island — A  Savage 
Dance  of  Triumph — Arrival  at  Wind  River, 

THE  adventures  of  the  detachment  of  ten 
are  the  first  m  order.  These  trappers, 
when  they  separated  from  Captain 
Bonneville  at  the  place  where  the  furs  were 
embarked,  proceeded  to  the  foot  of  the  Big- 
horn Mountain,  and  having  encamped,  one  of 
them  mounted  his  mtde  and  went  out  to  set 
his  trap  in  a  neighboring  stream.  He  had  not 
proceeded  far  when  his  steed  came  to  a  full 
stop.  The  trapper  kicked  and  cudgelled,  but 
to  every  blow  and  kick  the  mule  snorted  and 
kicked  up,  but  still  refused  to  budge  an  inch. 
The  rider  now  cast  his  eyes  warily  around  in 
search  of  some  cause  for  this  demur,  when,  to 
his  dismay,  he  discovered  an  Indian  fort  within 

264 


(Tbc  trrappcr'0  "Report 


265 


gunshot  distance,  lowering  through  the  twi- 
light. In  a  twinkling  he  wheeled  about ;  his 
mule  now  seemed  as  eager  to  get  on  as  himself, 
and  in  a  few  moments  brought  him,  clattering 
with  his  traps,  among  his  comrades.  He  was 
jeered  at  for  his  alacrity  in  retreating  ;  his  re- 
port was  treated  as  a  false  alarm  ;  his  brother 
trappers  contented  themselves  with  reconnoi- 
tring the  fort  at  a  distance,  and  pronounced 
that  it  was  deserted.  As  night  set  in,  the 
usual  precaution,  enjoined  by  Captain  Bon- 
neville o|i  his  men,  was  observed.  The 
horses  were  brought  in  and  tied,  and  a  guard 
stationed  over  them.  This  done,  the  men 
wrapped  themselves  in  their  blankets,  stretched 
themselves  before  the  fire,  and  being  fatigued 
with  a  long  day's  march,  and  gorged  with  a 
hearty  supper,  were  soon  in  a  profound  sleep. 
The  camp  fires  gradually  died  away ;  all 
was  dark  and  silent ;  the  sentinel  stationed  to 
watch  the  horses  had  marched  as  far,  and 
supped  as  heartily  as  any  of  his  companions, 
and  while  they  snored,  he  began  to  nod  at  his 
post.  After  a  time,  a  low  trampling  noise 
reached  his  ear .  He  half  opened  his  eyes,  and 
beheld  two  or  three  elks  moving  about  the 
lodges,  picking,  and  smelling,  and  grazing 
here  and  there.  The  sight  of  elk  withir  the 
purlieus  of  the  camp  caused  some  little  sur- 


^^^vl5^' 


366 


JSonnevillCa  nbvcntwcB 


m 


\' 


prise  ;  but,  having  had  his  supper,  he  cared 
not  for  elk  meat,  and,  suffering  them  to  graze 
about  unmolested,  soon  relapsed  into  a  doze. 

Suddenly,  before  daybreak,  a  discharge  of 
fire-arms,  and  a  struggle  and  tramp  of  horses, 
made  every  one  to  start  to  his  feet.  The  first 
move  was  to  secure  the  horses.  Some  we:^ 
gone ;  others  were  struggling,  and  kicking 
and  trembling,  for  there  was  a  horrible  uproar 
of  whoops,  and  yells,  and  fire-arms.  Several 
trappers  stole  quietly  from  the  ciamp,  and  suc- 
ceeded in  driving  in  the  horses  which  had 
broken  away  ;  the  rest  were  tethered  still  more 
strongly.  A  breastwork  was  thrown  up  of  sad- 
dles, baggage,  and  camp  furniture,  and  all 
hands  waited  anxiously  for  daylight.  The 
Indians,  in  the  meantime,  collected  on  a  neigh- 
boring height,  kept  up  the  most  horrible 
clamor,  in  hopes  of  striking  a  panic  into  the 
camp,  or  frightening  off  the  horses.  When 
the  day  dawned,  the  trappers  attacked  them 
briskly  and  drove  them  to  some  distance.  A 
desultory  firing  w^as  kept  up  for  an  hour, 
when  the  Indians,  seeing  nothing  was  to  be 
gained,  gave  up  the  contest  and  retired.  They 
proved  to  be  a  war  party  of  Blackfeet,  who, 
while  in  search  of  the  Crow  tribe,  had  fallen 
upon  the  trail  of  Captain  Bonneville  on  the 
Popo  Agie,  and  dogged  him  to  the  Bighorn ; 


Cbatige  of  "Route 


267 


of 


but  had  been  completely  baffled  by  his  vigi- 
lance. They  had  then  waylaid  the  present 
detachment,  and  were  actually  housed  in  per- 
fect silence  within  their  fort,  when  the  mule  of 
the  trapper  made  such  a  dead  point. 

The  savages  went  off  uttering  the  wildest 
denunciations  of  hostility,  mingled  with  op- 
probrious terms  in  broken  English,  and  ges- 
ticulations of  the  most  insulting  kind. 

In  this  m^lee,  one  white  man  was  wounded, 
and  two  horses  were  killed.  On  preparing  the 
morning's  meal,  however,  a  number  of  cups, 
knives,  and  other  articles  w^re  missing,  which 
had,  doubtless,  been  carried  off  by  the  fictitious 
elk,  during  the  slumber  of  the  very  sagacious 
sentinel. 

As  the  Indians  had  gone  off  in  the  direction 
which  the  trappers  had  intended  to  travel,  the 
latter  changed  their  route,  and  pushed  forward 
rapidly  through  the  "Bad  Pass,"  nor  halted 
until  night ;  when,  supposing  themselves  out 
of  the  reach  of  the  enemy,  they  contented 
themselves  with  tying  up  their  horses  and 
posting  a  guard.  They  had  scarce  laid  down 
to  sleep,  when  a  dog  strayed  into  the  camp  with 
a  small  pack  of  moccasins  tied  upon  his  back  ; 
for  dogs  are  made  to  carry  burdens  among  the 
Indians.  The  sentinel,  more  knowing  than  he 
of  the  preceding  night,  awoke  his  companion 


J 


: 


5'^ 


'1, 


*1.' 


I  ■ , 


j-  1 ' 


I  V. 


I  if' 


a68 


JSonneviUe'0  Bdventures 


and  reported  the  circumstance.  It  was  evident 
that  Indians  were  at  hand.  All  were  instantly 
at  work ;  a  strong  pen  was  soon  constructed 
for  the  horses,  after  completing  which,  they 
resumed  their  slumbers  with  the  composure  of 
men  long  inured  to  danger. 

In  the  next  night,  the  prowling  of  dogs 
about  the  camp,  and  various  suspicious  noises, 
showed  that  Indians  were  still  hovering  about 
them.  Hurrying  on  by  long  marches,  they  at 
length  fell  upon  a  trail,  which,  with  the  expe- 
rienced eye  of  a  veteran  woodman,  they  soon 
discovered  to  be  that  of  the  party  of  trappers 
detached  by  Captain  Bonneville  when  on  his 
march,  and  which  they  were  sent  to  join. 
They  likewise  ascertained  from  various  signs, 
that  this  party  had  suflFered  some  maltreatment 
from  the  Indians.  They  now  pursued  the  trail 
with  intense  anxiety  ;  it  carried  them  to  the 
banks  of  the  stream  called  the  Gray  Bull,  and 
down  along  its  course,  until  they  came  to  where 
it  empties  into  the  Horn  River.  Here,  to  their 
great  joy,  they  discovered  the  comrades  of  whom 
they  were  in  search,  all  strongly  fortified,  and 
in  a  state  of  great  watchfulness  and  anxiety. 

We  now  take  up  the  adventures  of  this  first 
detachment  of  trappers.  These  men,  after  part- 
ing with  the  main  body  under  Captain  Bonne- 
ville, had  proceeded  slowly  for  several  days  up 


B  Decoi?  Bill 


26g 


the  course  of  the  river,  trapping  beaver  as  they 
went.  One  morning,  as  they  were  about  to 
visit  their  traps,  one  of  the  camp-keepers 
pointed  to  a  fine  elk,  grazing  at  a  distance,  and 
requested  them  to  shoot  it.  Three  of  the  trap- 
pers started  off  for  the  purpose.  In  passing 
the  thicket,  they  were  fired  upon  by  some  sav- 
ages in  ambush,  and  at  the  same  time,  the 
pretended  elk,  throwing  off  his  hide  and  horn, 
started  forth  an  Indian  warrior. 

One  of  the  three  trappers,  had  been  brought 
down  by  the  volley  ;  the  others  fled  to  the  camp, 
and  all  hands,  seizing  up  whatever  they  could 
carry  off,  retreated  to  a  small  island  in  the  river, 
and  took  refuge  among  the  willows.  Here  they 
were  soon  j  oined  by  their  comrade  who  had  fallen , 
but  who  had  merely  been  wounded  in  the  neck. 

In  the  meantime,  the  Indians  took  possession 
of  the  deserted  camp,  with  all  the  traps,  ac- 
coutrements, and  Horses.  Wiiile  they  w^ere 
busy  among  the  spoils,  a  solitary  trapper,  who 
had  been  absent  at  his  work,  came  sauntering 
to  the  camp  with  his  traps  on  his  back.  He 
had  approached  near  by,  when  an  Indian  came 
forward  and  motioned  him  to  keep  away  ;  at 
the  same  moment,  he  was  perceived  by  his 
comrades  on  the  island,  and  warned  of  his  dan- 
ger with  loud  cries.  The  poor  fellow  stood  for 
a  moment,  bewildered  and  aghast,  then  drop- 


I 


1] 
'i 


\' 


i 


270 


JSonncvi.lc'0  'BbvcntixvcB 


pin^  his  traps,  wheeled  and  made  off  at  full 
speed,  quickened  by  a  sportive  volley  which 
the  Indians  rattled  after  him. 

In  high  good  humor  with  their  easy  triumph, 
the  savages  now  formed  a  circle  round  the  fire 
and  performed  a  war  dance,  with  the  unlucky 
trappers  for  rueful  spectators.  This  done,  em- 
boldened by  what  they  considered  cowardice  on 
the  part  of  the  white  men,  they  neglected  their 
usual  mode  of  bush-fighting,  and  advanced 
openly  within  twenty  paces  of  the  willows.  A 
sharp  volley  from  the  trappers  brought  them  to  a 
sudden  halt,  and  laid  three  of  them  breathless. 
The  chief,  who  had  stationed  himself  on  an  emi- 
nence to  direct  all  the  movements  of  his  people, 
seeing  three  of  his  warriors  laid  low,  ordered  the 
rest  to  retire.  They  immediately  did  so,  and  the 
whole  band  soon  disappeared  behind  a  point 
of  woods,  carrying  off  with  them  the  horses, 
traps,  and  the  greater  part  of  the  baggage. 

It  was  just  after  this  misfortune,  that  the  party 
of  ten  men  discovered  this  forlorn  band  of  trap- 
pers in  a  fortress,  which  they  had  thrown  up 
after  their  disaster.  They  were  so  perfectly 
dismayed,  that  they  could  not  be  induced  even 
to  go  in  quest  of  their  traps,  which  they  had 
set  in  a  neighboring  stream.  The  two  parties 
now  joined  their  forces,  and  made  their  way, 
without  further  misfortune,  to  the  rendezvous. 


Brrtval  at  Tmind  'River 


871 


Captain  Bonneville  perceived  from  the  reports 
of  these  parties,  as  well  as  from  what  he  had 
observed  himself  in  his  recent  march,  that  he 
was  in  a  neighborhood  teeming  with  danger. 
Two  wandering  Snake  Indians,  also,  who 
visited  the  camp,  assured  him  that  there  wei  e 
two  large  bands  of  Crows  marching  rapidly 
upon  him.  He  broke  up  his  encampment, 
therefore,  on  the  ist  of  September,  made  his 
way  to  the  south,  across  the  Littlehorn  Moun- 
tain, until  he  reached  Wind  River,  and  then 
turning  westward,  moved  slowly  up  the  banks 
of  that  stream,  giving  time  for  his  men  to  trap 
as  he  proceeded.  As  it  was  not  in  the  plan  of 
the  present  hunting  campaign  to  go  near  the 
caches  on  Green  River,  and  as  the  trappers  were 
in  want  of  traps  to  replace  those  they  had  lost, 
Captain  Bonneville  undertook  to  visit  the 
caches^  and  procure  a  supply.  To  accompany 
him  in  this  hazardous  expedition,  which  would 
take  him  through  the  defiles  of  the  Wind  River 
Mountains,  and  up  the  Green  River  Valley,  he 
took  but  three  men  ;  the  main  party  were  to 
continue  on  trapping  up  towards  the  head  of 
Wind  River,  near  which  he  was  to  rejoin  them, 
just  about  the  place  where  that  stream  issues 
from  the  mountains.  We  shall  accompany  the 
captain  on  his  adventurous  errand. 


I 


!!' 


Cbaptcr  JfflD* 

Captain  Bonneville  Sets  Out  for  Green  River  Valley- 
Journey  up  the  Popo  Agie — Bufifaloes —  The  Staring 
White  Bears— The  Smoke— The  Warm  Springs— At- 
tempt to  Traverse  the  Wind  River  Mountains— The 
Great  Slope — Mountain  Dells  and  Chasms — Crystal 
Lakes — ^Ascent  of  a  Snowy  Peak — Sublime  Prospect 
— A  Panorama — "  Les  Dignes  de  Pitie,"  or  Wild 
Men  of  the  Mountains. 

HAVING  forded  Wind  River  a  little  above 
its  mouth,  Captain  Bonneville  and  his 
three  companions  proceeded  across  a 
gravelly  plain,  until  they  fell  upon  the  Popo 
Agie,  up  the  left  bank  of  which  they  held  their 
course,  nearly  in  a  southerly  direction.  Here 
they  came  upon  numerous  droves  of  buffalo, 
and  halted  for  the  purpose  of  procuring  a 
supply  of  beef.  As  the  hunters  were  stealing 
cautiously  to  get  within  shot  of  the  game,  two 
small  white  bears  suddenly  presented  them- 
selves in  their  path,  and,  rising  upon  their  hind 
legs,  contemplated  them  for  some  time,  with  a 


i 


3Buiraloe0 


a73 


whimsically  solemn  gaze.  The  hunters  re- 
mained motionless  ;  whereupon  the  bears,  hav- 
ing apparently  satisfied  their  curiosity,  lowered 
themselves  upon  all  fours,  and  began  to  with- 
draw. The  hunters  now  advanced,  upon  which 
the  bears  turned,  rose  again  upon  their 
haunches,  and  repeated  their  serio-comic  ex- 
amination. This  was  repeated  several  times, 
until  the  hunters,  piqued  at  their  unmannerly 
staring,  rebuked  it  with  a  discharge  of  their 
rifles.  The  bears  made  an  awkward  bound  or 
two,  as  if  wounded,  and  then  walked  off"  with 
great  gravity,  seeming  to  commune  together, 
and  every  no\v  and  then  turning  to  take  another 
look  at  the  hunters.  It  was  well  for  the  latter 
that  the  bears  were  but  half  grown,  and  had 
not  yet  acquired  the  ferocity  of  their  kind. 

The  buffalo  were  somewhat  startled  at  the 
report  of  the  fire-arms  ;  but  the  hunters  suc- 
ceeded in  killing  a  couple  of  fine  cows,  and, 
having  secured  the  best  of  the  meat,  continued 
forward  until  some  time  after  dark,  when,  en- 
camping in  a  large  thicket  of  willows,  they 
made  a  great  fire,  roasted  buffalo  beef  enough 
for  half  a  score,  disposed  of  the  whole  of  it  with 
keen  relish  and  high  glee,  and  then  "turned 
in  "  for  the  night  and  slept  soundly,  like  weary 
and  well-fed  hunters. 

At  daylight  they  were  in  the  saddle  agai:i, 

VOL.  I.— 18 


M 


V 

I 

V 

if 

\ 

, 

'\ 

j  ! 

^!  ■  ) 

i* 

>     *  (  ■ 

r 

'' 

274 


JSonncrlUc'0  Bdventurcd 


m 

ii& 

ij^jiMi 

;:f 

fill 

T'll 

1 

^iii 

and  skirted  along  the  liver,  passing  tliroug?i 
fresh  grassy  meadows,  and  a  succession  of 
l)eantiful  groves  of  willows  and  cotton- wootl. 
Towards  evening,  Captain  Bonneville  observed 
a  smoke  at  a  distance  rising  from  among  hills, 
directly  in  the  route  he  was  pursuing.  Appre- 
hensive of  some  hostile  band,  he  concealed  the 
horses  in  a  thicket,  and,  accompanied  by  one 
of  his  men,  crawled  cautiously  up  a  heif^ht, 
from  which  he  could  overlook  the  scene  of  dan 
ger.  Here,  with  a  spy-glass,  he  reconnoitred 
the  surrounding  country,  but  not  a  lodge  nor 
fire,  not  a  man,  horse,  nor  dog  was  to  be  dis- 
covered ;  in  short,  the  smoke  which  had  caused 
such  alarm  proved  to  be  the  vapor  from  several 
warm,  or  rather  hot  springs  of  considerable 
magnitude,  pouring  forth  streams  in  every 
direction  over  a  bottom  of  white  clay.  One 
of  the  springs  was  about  twenty-five  yards  in 
diameter,  and  so  deep  that  the  water  was  of  a 
bright  green  color. 

They  were  now  advancing  diagonally  upon 
the  chain  of  Wind  River  Mountains,  which  lay 
between  them  and  Green  River  V^jjllev.  To 
coast  round  their  southern  points  weald  be  a 
wide  circuit ;  whereas,  could  they  force  their 
way  through  them,  they  might  proceed  in  a 
straight  line.  The  mountains  were  lofty,  with 
snowy  2>eaks  and  cragged  sides  ;  it  was  hoped, 


Hbe  (Brcat  Slope 


575 


however,  that  some  practicable  defile  mij;ht  be 
found.  They  attcmpUd  if^cormngly,  lo  pene- 
trate the  mountains  by  foUowing  np  one  of  the 
branches  of  the  Popo  Agie,  but  s(  011  found 
themselves  in  the  midst  of  si  nend(  us  crags 
cud  precipices  that  barred  all  ]  rogress.  Re- 
tr  icing  their  steps,  and  falling  bi  ck  upon  the 
river,  they  consulted  where  to  make  another 
attempt.  They  were  too  close  bei  eath  the 
mountains  to  scan  them  generally,  but  they 
now  recollected  having  noticed,  from  tht-  plain, 
a  beautiful  slope,  rising,  at  an  angle  01  about 
thirty  degrees,  and  apparently  without  any 
break,  until  it  reached  the  snowy  rt^ion. 
Seeking  this  gentle  acclivity,  they  began  to 
ascend  it  with  alacrity,  trusting  to  find  at  the 
top  one  of  those  elevated  plains  which  prevail 
among  the  Rocky  Mountains.  The  slope  ^  vas 
covered  with  coarse  gravel,  interspersed  with 
plates  of  freestone.  They  attained  the  summit 
with  some  toil,  but  found,  instead  of  a  level, 
or  rather  undulating  plain,  that  they  were 
on  the  brink  of  a  deep  and  precipitous  ravine, 
from  the  bottom  of  which  rose  a  second  slope, 
similar  to  the  one  they  had  just  ascended. 
Down  into  this  profound  ravine  they  made 
tlifcir  way  by  a  rugged  path,  or  rather  fissure 
of  the  rocks,  and  then  labored  up  the  second 
slope.     They  gained  the  summit  only  to  find 


»i    M 


276 


Xonncvillc*0  Bdventurcd 


w 


Ml 


themselves  on  another  ravine,  and  now  per- 
ceived that  this  vast  mountain,  which  had 
presented  such  a  sloping  and  even  side  to  the 
distant  beholder  on  the  plain,  was  shagged  by 
fr [^htful  precipices,  and  seamed  with  longitu- 
di.al  chasms,  deep  and  dangerous. 

In  one  of  these  wild  dells  they  passed  the 
night,  and  slept  soundly  and  sweetly  after 
their  fatigues.  Two  days  more  of  arduous 
climbing  and  scrambling  only  served  to  ad- 
mit them  into  the  heart  of  this  mountainous 
and  awful  solitude,  where  difficulties  increased 
as  they  proceeded.  Sometimes  they  scrambled 
from  rock  to  rock,  up  the  bed  of  some  moun- 
tain stream,  dashing  its  bright  way  down  to 
the  plains  ;  sometimes  they  availed  themselves 
of  the  paths  made  by  the  deer  and  the  moun- 
tain sheep,  which,  however,  often  took  them 
to  the  brink  of  fearful  precipices,  or  led  to 
rugged  defiles,  impassable  for  their  horses. 
At  one  place,  they  were  obliged  to  slide  their 
horses  down  the  face  of  a  rock,  in  which  at- 
tempt some  of  the  poor  animals  lost  their  foot- 
ing, rolled  to  the  bottom,  and  came  near  being 
dashed  to  pieces. 

In  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day,  the  trav- 
ellers attained  one  of  the  elevated  valleys  locked 
up  in  this  singular  bed  of  mountains.  Here 
were  two  bright  and  beautiful  little  lakes,  set 


Bdcent  of  a  Snows  peaft 


277 


like  mirrors  in  the  midst  of  stern  and  rocky 
heights,  and  surrounded  by  grassy  meadows, 
inexpressibly  refreshing  to  the  eye.  These 
probably  were  among  the  sources  of  those 
mighty  streams  which  take  their  rise  among 
these  mountains,  and  wander  hundreds  of  miles 
through  the  plains. 

In  the  green  pastures  bordering  upon  these 
lakes,  the  travellers  halted  to  repose,  and  to 
give  their  weary  horses  time  to  crop  the  sweet 
and  tender  herbage.  They  had  now  ascended 
to  a  great  height  above  the  level  of  the  plains, 
yet  they  beheld  huge  crags  of  granite  piled 
one  upon  another,  and  beetling  like  battlements 
far  above  them.  While  two  of  the  men  re- 
mained in  the  camp  with  the  horses,  Captain 
Bonneville,  accompanied  by  the  other  men,  set 
out  to  climb  a  neighboring  height,  hoping  to 
gain  a  commanding  prospect,  and  discern  some 
practicable  route  through  this  stupendous  laby- 
rinth. After  much  toil,  he  reached  the  summit 
of  a  lofty  cliff,  but  it  was  only  to  behold  gigan- 
tic peaks  rising  all  around,  and  towering  far 
into  the  snowy  regions  of  the  atmosphere.  Se- 
lecting one  which  appeared  to  be  the  highest, 
he  crossed  a  narrow  inte.Tening  valley,  and 
began  to  scale  it.  He  soon  found  that  he  had 
undertaken  a  tremendous  task  ;  but  the  pride 
of  man   is  never  more   obstinate  than  when 


u 


i:i 


ill, 


278 


J8onneviUe'0  Bdvcntures 


climbing  mountains.  The  ascent  was  so  steep 
and  rugged  that  he  and  his  companions  were 
frequently  obliged  to  clamber  on  hands  and 
knees,  with  their  guns  slung  upon  their  backs. 
Frequently,  exhausted  with  fatigue,  and  drip- 
ping with  perspiration,  they  threw  themselves 
upon  the  snow,  and  took  handfuls  of  it  to  al- 
lay their  parching  thirst.  At  one  place,  they 
even  stripped  oflF  their  coats  and  hung  them 
upon  the  bushes,  and  thus  lightly  clad,  pro- 
ceeded to  scramble  over  these  eternal  snows. 
As  they  ascended  still  higher,  there  were  cool 
breezes  that  refreshed  and  braced  them,  and 
springing  with  new  ardor  to  their  task,  they 
at  length  attained  the  summit. 

Here  a  scene  burst  upon  the  view  of  Captain 
Bonneville,  that  for  a  time  astonished  and  over- 
whelmed him  with  its  immensity.  He  stood,  in 
fact,  upon  that  dividing  ridge  which  Indians  re- 
gard as  the  crest  of  the  world ;  and  on  each  side 
of  which,  the  landscape  may  be  said  to  decline 
to  the  two  cardinal  oceans  of  the  globe. 
Whichever  way  he  turned  his  eye,  it  was  con- 
founded by  the  vastness  and  variety  of  objects. 
Beneath  him,  the  Rocky  Mountains  seemed  to 
open  all  their  secret  recesses :  deep,  solemn 
valleys  ;  treasured  lakes  ;  dreary  passes  ;  rug- 
ged defiles,  and  foaming  torrents ;  while  beyond 
their  savage  precincts,  the  eye  was  lost  in  an 


Sublime  prospect 


379 


almost  immeasurable  landscape  ;  stretching  on 
every  side  into  dim  and  hazy  distance,  like 
the  expanse  of  a  summer's  sea.  Whichever 
way  he  looked,  he  beheld  vast  plains  glimmer- 
ing with  reflected  sunshine ;  mighty  streams 
wandering  on  their  shining  course  toward 
either  ocean,  and  snowy  mountains,  chain  be- 
yond chain,  and  peak  beyond  peak,  till  they 
melted  like  clouds  into  the  horizon.  For  a 
time,  the  Indian  fable  seemed  realized :  he  had 
attained  that  height  from  which  the  Blackfoot 
warrior  after  death,  first  catches  a  view  of  the 
land  of  souls,  and  beholds  the  happy  hunting 
grounds  spread  out  below  him,  brightening 
with  the  abodes  of  the  free  and  generous 
spirits.  The  captain  stood  for  a  long  while 
gazing  upon  this  scene,  lost  in  a  crowd  of  vague 
and  indefinite  ideas  and  sensations.  A  long- 
drawn  inspiration  at  length  relieved  him  from 
this  enthrallment  of  the  mind,  and  he  began 
to  analyze  the  parts  of  this  vast  panorama.  A 
simple  enumeration  of  a  few  of  its  features, 
may  give  some  idea  of  its  collective  grandeur 
and  magnificence. 

The  peak  on  which  the  captain  had  taken 
his  stand,  commanded  the  whole  Wind  River 
chain  ;  which,  in  fact,  may  rather  be  consid- 
ered one  immense  mountain,  broken  into 
iSnowy  peaks  and  lateral  spurs,  and   seamed 


28o 


Xonnevi\lc*6  Bdventurca 


m 

i.'  [ 


-'pi 

I'M 


!  Hi 


!   H 


■i;;    ^ 


t!;-' 


with  narrow  valleys.  Some  of  these  valleys 
glittered  with  silver  lakes  and  gushing  streams  ; 
the  fountain  head,  as  it  w^re,  of  the  mighty 
tributaries  to  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific  Oceans. 
Beyond  the  snowy  peaks,  to  the  south,  and  far, 
far  below  the  mountain  range,  the  gentle  river, 
called  the  Sweet  Water,  was  seen  pursuing  its 
tranquil  way  through  the  rugged  regions  of  the 
Black  Hills.  In  the  east,  the  head-waters  qf 
Wind  River  wandered  through  a  plain,  until, 
mingling  in  one  powerful  current,  they  forced 
their  way  through  the  range  of  Horn  Moun- 
tains, and  were  lost  to  view.  To  the  north,  were 
caught  glimpses  of  the  upper  streams  of  the 
Yellowstone,  that  great  tributary  of  the  Mis- 
souri. In  another  direction  were  to  be  seen  some 
of  the  sources  of  the  Oregon,,  or  Columbia, 
flowing  to  the  northwest,  past  those  towering 
landmarks  the  three  Tetons,  and  pouring  down 
into  the  great  lava  plain  ;  while,  almost  at 
the  captain's  feet,  the  Green  River,  or  Colorado 
of  the  West,  set  forth  on  its  wandering  pilgrim- 
age to  the  Gulf  of  California  ;  at  first  a  mere 
mountain  torrent,  dashing  north v^ard  over  crag 
and  precipice,  in  a  succession  of  cascades,  and 
tumbling  into  the  plain,  where,  expanding  into 
an  ample  river,  it  circled  away  to  the  south, 
and  after  alternately  shining  out  and  disappear- 
ing in  the  mazes  of  the  vast  landscape,  was 


Bii  f  mmendc  Brca 


28z 


finally  lost  in  a  horizon  of  mountains.  The  day 
was  calm  and  cloudless,  and  the  atmosphere  so 
pure  that  objects  were  discernible  at  an  aston- 
ishing distance.  The  whole  of  this  immense 
area  was  inclosed  by  an  outer  range  of  shadowy 
peaks,  some  of  them  faintly  marked  en  the 
horizon,  which  seemed  to  wall  it  in  from  the 
rest  of  the  earth. 

It  is  to  be  regretted  that  Captain  Bonneville 
had  no  instruments  with  him  with  which  to 
ascertain  the  altitude  of  this  peak.  He  gives 
it  as  his  opinion,  that  it  is  the  loftiest  point  of 
the  North  American  continent ;  but  of  this  we 
have  no  satisfactory  proof.  It  is  certain  that 
the  Rocky  Mountains  are  of  an  altitude  vastly 
superior  to  what  was  formerly  supposed.  We 
rather  incline  to  the  opinion  that  the  highest 
peak  is  further  to  the  northward,  and  is  the 
same  measured  by  Mr.  Thompson,  surveyor 
to  the  Northwest  Company  ;  who,  by  the  joint 
means  of  the  barometer  and  trigonometric 
measurement,  ascertained  it  to  be  twenty-five 
thousand  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea  ;  an 
elevation  only  inferior  to  that  of  the  Hima- 
layas.* 

For  a  long  time,  Captain  Bonneville  remained 
gazing  around  him  with  wonder  and  enthusi- 

*  See  the  letter  of  Professor  Renwick,  in  the  ap- 
pendix to  Astoria. 


\ 

€ 

\'-- 


I 


til';' 


1-1 


28a 


JSonitcviUc'd  BOventurcd 


asm ;  at  length  the  chill  and  wintry  winds 
whirling  about  the  snow-clad  height,  admon- 
ished him  to  descend.  He  soon  regained  the 
spot  where  he  and  his  companions  had  thrown 
off  their  coats,  which  were  now  gladly  resumed, 
and,  retracing  their  course  down  the  peak, 
tliey  safely  rejoined  their  companions  on  the 
border  of  the  lake. 

Notwithstanding  the  savage  and  almost  in- 
accessible nature  of  these  mountains,  they  have 
their  inhabitants.  As  one  of  the  party  was 
out  hunting,  he  came  upon  the  solitary  track 
of  a  man,  in  a  lonely  valley.  Following  it  up, 
he  reached  the  brow  of  a  cliff,  whence  he  be- 
held three  savages  running  across  the  valley 
below  him.  He  fired  his  gun  to  call  their  at- 
tention, hoping  to  induce  them  to  turn  back. 
They  only  fled  the  faster,  and  disappeared 
among  the  rocks.  The  hunter  returned  and 
reported  what  he  had  seen.  Captain  Bonne- 
ville at  once  concluded  that  these  belonged  to 
a  kind  of  hermit  race,  scanty  in  number,  that 
inhabit  the  highest  and  most  inaccessible  fast- 
nesses. They  speak  the  Shoshonie  language, 
and  probably  are  offsets  from  that  tribe, 
though  they  have  peculiarities  of  their  own, 
which  distinguish  them  from  all  other  Indians. 
They  are  miserably  poor ;  own  no  horses,  and 
are  destitute  of  every  convenience  to  be  de- 


Ibermit  InOtaiid 


2S3 


rived  from  an  intercourse  with  the  whites. 
Their  weapons  are  bows  and  stone-pointed 
arrows,  with  which  they  hunt  the  deer,  the 
elk,  and  the  mountain  sheep.  They  are  to  be 
found  scattered  about  the  countries  of  the 
Shoshonie,  Flathead,  Crow,  and  Black  feet 
tribes ;  but  their  residences  are  always  in 
lonely  places,  and  the  clefts  of  the  rocks. 

Their  footsteps  are  often  seen  by  the  trap- 
pers in  the  high  and  solitary  valleys  among 
the  mountains,  and  the  smokes  of  their  fires 
descried  among  the  precipices,  but  they  them- 
selves are  rarely  met  with  and  still  more  rarely 
brought  to  a  parley,  so  great  is  their  shyness, 
and  their  dread  of  strangers. 

As  their  poverty  offers  no  temptation  to  the 
marauder,  and  as  they  are  inoffensive  in  their 
habits,  they  are  never  the  objects  of  warfare  : 
should  one  of  them,  however,  fall  into  the 
hands  of  a  war  party,  he  is  sure  to  be  made  a 
sacrifice,  for  the  sake  of  that  savage  trophy,  a 
scalp,  and  that  barbarous  ceremony,  a  scalp 
dance.  Those  forlorn  beings,  forming  a  mere 
link  between  human  nature  and  the  brute, 
have  been  looked  down  upon  with  pity  and  con- 
tempt by  the  Creole  trappers,  who  have  gi\'en 
them  the  appellation  oiles  dignes  depitie,  or  * '  the 
objects  of  pity."  They  appear  more  worthy  to 
be  called  the  wild  men  of  the  mountains. 


I 


I,  '       ! 


i; »     ! 


Chapter  f f  IDf  • 


if; 


Hi'- 


A  Retrogriide  Move — Channel  of  a  Mountain  Torrent 
— Alpine  Scenery — Cascades — Beaver  Valleys — Bea- 
vers at  Work — Their  Architecture — Their  Modes  of 
Felling  Trees — Mode  of  Trapping  Beaver — Contests 
of  ,>kill— A  Beaver  "Up  to  Trap"— Arrival  at  the 
Green  River  Caches. 

THE  viev7  from  the  snowy  peak  of  the 
Wind  River  Mountain,  while  it  had 
excited  Captain  Bonneville's  enthusi- 
asm, had  satisfied  him  that  it  would  be  use- 
less to  force  a  passage  westward,  through 
multiplying  barriers  of  cliffs  and  precipices. 
Turning  his  face  eastward,  therefore,  he  endea- 
vored to  regain  the  plains,  intending  to  make  the 
circuit  round  the  southern  point  of  the  moun- 
tain. To  descend,  and  to  extricate  himself 
from  the  heart  of  this  rock-piled  wilderness, 
was  almost  as  difficult  as  to  penetrate  it.  Tak- 
ing his  course  down  the  ravine  of  a  tumbling 
stream,   the    commencement  of  some    future 

284 


BIpfne  Scencxt 


285 


river,  he  descended  from  rock  to  rock,  and  shelf 
to  shelf,  between  stupendous  cliffs  and  beetling 
crags,  that  sprang  up  to  the  sky.  Often  he 
had  to  cioss  and  recross  the  rushing  torrent, 
as  it  wound  foaming  and  roaring  down  its 
broken  channel,  or  was  walled  by  perpendicular 
precipices  ;  and  imminent  was  the  hazard  of 
breaking  the  legs  of  the  horses  in  the  clefts 
and  fissures  of  slippery  rocks.  The  whole 
scenery  of  this  deep  ravine  was  of  Alpine 
wildness  and  sublimity.  Sometimes  the  trav- 
ellers passed  beneath  cascades  which  pitched 
from  such  lofty  heights,  that  the  water  fell 
into  the  stream  like  heavy  rain.  In  other 
places,  torrents  came  tumbling  from  crag  to 
crag,  dashing  into  foam  and  spray,  and  mak- 
ing tremendous  din  and  uproar. 

On  the  second  day  of  their  descent,  the 
travellers,  having  got  beyond  the  steepest  pitch 
of  the  mountains,  came  to  where  the  deep  and 
nigged  ravine  began  occasionally  to  expand 
into  small  levels  or  valleys,  and  the  stream  to 
assume  for  short  intervals  a  more  peaceful 
character.  Here,  not  merely  the  river  itself, 
but  every  rivulet  flowing  into  it,  was  dammed 
up  by  communities  of  industrious  beavers,  so 
as  to  inundate  the  neighborhood,  and  make 
continual  swamps. 

During  a  midday  halt  in  one  of  these  beaver 


a86 


:iSonnev^lUc'0  adventured 


(:' 


1. 


( 


I. 


'11,    . 

it!'  ■ 

lii 

valleys,  Captain  Bonneville  left  his  companions, 
and  strolled  down  the  course  of  the  stream  to 
reconnoitre.  He  had  not  proceeded  far,  when 
he  came  to  a  beaver  pond,  and  caught  a  glimpse 
of  one  of  its  painstaking  inhabitants  busily 
at  work  upon  the  dam.  The  curiosity  of  the 
captain  was  aroused,  to  behold  the  mode  of 
operating  of  this  far-famed  architect ;  he 
moved  forward,  therefore,  with  the  utmost 
caution,  parting  the  branches  of  the  water 
willows  without  making  any  noise,  un  .1  hav- 
ing attained  a  position  commanding  a  view  of 
the  whole  pond,  he  stretched  himself  fiat  on 
the  ground,  and  watched  the  solitary  workman. 
In  a  little  while,  three  others  appeared  at  the 
head  of  the  dam,  bringing  sticks  and  bushes. 
With  these  they  proceeded  directly  to  the  bar- 
rier, which  Captain  Bonneville  perceived  was 
in  need  of  repair.  Having  deposited  their 
loads  upon  the  broken  part,  they  dived  into 
the  water,  and  shortly  reappeared  at  the  sur- 
face. Kach  now  brought  a  quantity  of  mud, 
with  which  he  would  plaster  the  sticks  and 
bushes  just  deposited.  This  kind  of  masonry 
was  continued  for  some  time,  repeated  supplies 
of  wood  and  mud  being  brought,  and  treated 
in  the  same  manner.  This  done,  the  indus- 
trious beavers  indulged  in  a  little  recreation, 
chasing  each  other  about  the  pond,  dodging 


XcnvctB  at  TUIorli 


•87 


ion, 


and  whisking  about  on  the  surface,  or  diving 
to  the  bottom  ;  and  in  their  frolic,  often  slap- 
ping their  tails  on  the  water  with  a  loud  clack- 
ing sound.  While  they  were  thus  amusing 
themselves,  another  of  the  fraternity  made  his 
appearance,  and  looked  gravely  on  their  sports 
for  some  time,  without  offering  to  join  in  them, 
lie  then  climbed  the  bank  close  to  where  the 
captain  was  concealed,  and,  rearing  himself  on 
his  hind-quarters,  in  a  sitting  position,  put  his 
fore-paws  against  a  young  pine-tree,  and 
began  to  cut  the  bark  with  his  teeth.  At 
times  he  would  tear  off  a  small  piece,  and 
holding  it  between  his  paws,  and  retaining  his 
sedentary  position,  would  feed  himself  with  it, 
after  the  fashion  of  a  monkey.  The  object  of 
the  beaver,  how.ever,  was  evidently  to  cut 
down  the  tree ;  and  he  was  proceeding  with 
his  work,  when  he  was  alarmed  by  the  ap- 
proach of  Captain  Bonneville's  men,  who,  feel- 
ing anxious  at  the  protracted  absence  of  their 
leader,  were  coming  in  search  of  him.  At  the 
sound  of  their  voices,  all  the  beavers,  busy  as 
well  as  idle,  dived  at  once  beneath  the  surface, 
and  were  no  more  to  be  seen.  Captain  Bonne- 
ville regretted  this  interruption.  He  had  heard 
much  of  the  sagacity  of  the  beaver  in  cutting 
down  trees,  in  which,  it  is  said,  they  manage 
to  make  them  fall  into  the  water,  and  in  such 


:V     f| 

|| 
If* 


«  ( 


ir 


1 

f.  ^ 

I, ! 

i    !'. 

288 


JSoimevillc'd  BDventurea 


a  position  and  direction  as  may  be  most  favor- 
able for  conveyance  to  the  desired  point.  In 
the  present  instance,  the  tree  was  a  tall  straight 
pine,  and  as  it  grew  perpendicularly,  and  there 
was  not  a  breath  of  air  stirring,  the  beaver 
could  have  felled  it  in  any  direction  he  pleased, 
if  really  capable  of  exercising  a  discretion  in 
the  matter.  He  was  evidently  engaged  in 
"belting"  the  tree,  and  his  first  incision  had 
been  on  the  side  nearest  to  the  water. 

Captain  Bonneville,  however,  discredits,  on 
the  whole,  the  alleged  sagacity  of  the  beaver 
in  this  particular,  and  thinks  the  animal  has 
no  other  aim  than  to  get  the  tree  down,  with- 
out any  of  the  subtle  calculation  as  to  its  mode 
or  directions  of  falling.  This  attribute,  he 
thinks,  has  been  ascribed  to  them  from  the 
circumstance,  that  most  trees  growing  near 
water-courses,  either  lean  bodily  towards  the 
stream,  or  stretch  their  largest  limbs  in  that 
direction,  to  benefit  by  the  space,  the  light, 
and  the  ar.r  to  be  found  there.  The  beaver, 
of  course,  attacks  those  trees  which  are  nearest 
at  hand,  and  on  the  banks  of  the  stream  or 
pond.  He  makes  incisions  round  them,  or,  in 
technical  phrase,  belts  them  with  his  teeth, 
and  when  they  fall,  they  naturally  take  the 
direction  in  which  their  trunks  or  branches 
preponderate. 


Saonciti?  of  tbc  Xcavct 


2  St) 


"I  have  often,"  «ays  Captain  Bonneville, 
'seen  trees  measuring  eij^hteen  inches  in  diam- 
eter, at  the  places  where  they  had  been  cut 
tlirough  by  the  beaver,  but  they  lay  in  all 
directions,  and  often  very  inconveniently  for 
the  after  purposes  of  the  animal.  In  fact,  so 
little  ingenuity  do  they  at  times  display  in  this 
particular,  that  at  one  of  our  camps  on  Snake 
River,  a  beaver  was  foimd  with  his  head 
wedged  into  the  cut  which  he  had  made,  the 
tree  having  fallen  ujx)n  him  and  held  him  pris- 
oner until  he  died." 

Great  choice,  according  to  the  captain,  is 
certainly  displayed  by  the  beaver  in  selecting 
the  wood  which  is  to  furnish  bark  for  winter 
provision.  The  whole  beaver  household,  old 
and  young,  set  out  upon  tl.is  budr.ess,  and 
will  often  make  long  journeys  before  they  are 
suited.  Sometimes  they  cut  down  trees  of  the 
largest  size  and  then  cull  tlic  branches,  the 
bark  of  which  is  most  to  their  taste.  These 
they  cut  into  lengths  of  about  three  feet,  con- 
vey them  to  the  water,  and  float  them  to  their 
lodges,  where  they  are  ctored  away  for  winter. 
They  are  studious  of  cleanliness  and  comfort 
in  their  lodges,  and  after  their  repasts,  will 
carry  out  the  sticks  from  which  they  have 
eaten  the  bark,  and  throw  them  into  the  cur- 
rent beyond   the  barrier.     They   are  jealous, 

VOL.  I. — ZQ 


hi 
h 


290 


Xonncvi{lc*6  Bdventures 


''  i 


>  I 


^1- 


1  !'  '-   '■  flJlH' 

f-i  :^: 

8t      i'i               5-.' 

H|. 

.— 'it  ifc^i 

too,  of  their  territories,  and  extremely  pugna- 
cious, never  permitting  a  strange  beaver  to 
enter  their  premises,  and  often  fighting  with 
such  virulence  as  almost  to  tear  each  other  to 
pieces.  In  the  spring,  which  is  the  breeding 
season,  the  male  leaves  the  female  at  home, 
and  sets  off"  on  a  tour  of  pleasure,  rambling 
often  to  a  great  distance,  recreating  himself 
in  every  clear  and  quiet  expanse  of  water  on 
his  way,  and  climbing  the  banks  occasionally 
to  feast  upon  the  tender  sprouts  of  the  young 
willows,.  As  summer  advances,  he  gives  up 
his  bachelor  rambles,  and  bethinking  himself 
of  housekeeping  duties,  returns  home  to  his 
mate  and  his  new  progeny,  and  marshals  them 
all  for  the  foraging  expedition  in  quest  of 
winter  provisions. 

After  having  shown  the  public  spirit  of  this 
praiseworthy  little  animal  as  a  member  of  a 
community,  and  his  amiable  and  exemplary 
conduct  as  the  father  of  a  family,  we  grieve 
to  record  the  perils  with  which  he  is  environed, 
and  the  snares  set  for  him  and  his  painstaking 
household. 

Practice,  says  Captain  Bonneville,  has  given 
such  a  quickness  of  eye  to  the  experienced  trap- 
per in  all  that  relates  to  his  pursuit,  that  he 
car  detect  the  slightest  sign  of  beaver,  however 
wild;   and  although  the-  lodge  may  be  con- 


aso^c  ot  trapping  JSeaver 


291 


cealed  by  close  thickets  and  overhanging  wil- 
lows, he  can  generally,  at  a  single  glance, 
make  an  accurate  guess  at  the  number  of  its 
inmates.  He  now  goes  to  work  to  set  his 
trap ;  planting  it  upon  the  shore,  in  some 
chosen  place,  two  or  three  inches  below  the 
surface  of  the  water,  and  secures  it  by  a  chain 
to  a  pole  set  deep  in  the  mud.  A  small  twig 
is  then  stripped  of  its  bark,  and  one  end  is 
dipped  in  the  "medicine,"  as  the  trappers 
term  the  peculiar  bait  which  they  employ. 
This  end  of  the  stick  rises  about  four  inches 
above  the  surface  of  the  water,  the  other  end 
is  planted  between  the  jaws  of  the  trap.  The 
beaver,  possessing  an  acute  sense  of  smell,  is 
soon  attracted  by  the  odor  of  the  bait.  As  he 
raises  his  nose  towards  it,  his  foot  is  caught 
in  the  trap.  In  his  fright  he  throws  a  somer- 
set into  the  deep  water.  The  trap,  being  fas- 
tened to  the  pole,  resists  all  his  efforts  to  drag 
it  to  the  shore ;  the  chain  by  which  it  is  fas- 
tened defies  his  teeth  ;  he  struggles  for  a  time, 
and  at  length  sinks  to  the  bottom  and  is 
drowned. 

Upon  rocky  bottoms,  where  it  is  not  possi- 
ble to  plant  the  pole,  it  is  thrown  into  the 
stream.  The  beaver,  when  entrapped,  often 
gets  fastened  by  the  chain  to  sunken  logs  or 
floating  timber  ;  if  he  gets  to  shore,  he  is  en- 


1^^.  i 


M 


^■:. 


1  ii.i 


;l  ! 


it;  :    i 

[|:f 


292 


JBonneville'd  Bdv»cnture0 


tangled  in  the  thickets  of  brook  willows.  In 
such  cases,  however,  it  costs  the  trapper  dili- 
gent search,  and  sometimes  a  bout  at  swim- 
ming, before  he  finds  his  game. 

Occasionally  it  happens  that  several  mem- 
bers of  a  beaver  family  are  trapped  in  succe> 
sion.  The  survivors  then  become  extremely 
shy,  and  can  scarcely  be  "brought  to  medi- 
cine," to  use  the  trapper's  phrase  for  *'  taking 
the  bait."  In  such  case,  the  trapper  gives  up 
the  use  of  the  bait,  and  conceals  his  traps  in 
the  usual  paths  and  crossing-places  of  the 
household.  The  beaver  now  being  completely 
"up  to  trap,"  approaches  them  cautiously, 
and  springs  them  ingeniously  with  a  stick. 
At  other  times,  he  turns  the  traps  bottom 
upwards,  by  the  same  means,  and  occasionally 
even  drags  them  to  the  barrier  and  conceals 
them  in  the  mtd.  The  trapper,  now  gives  up 
the  contest  of  ingenuity,  and  shouldering  his 
traps,  marches  off,  admitting  that  he  is  not 
yet  "  up  to  beaver." 

On  the  day  following  Captain  Bonneville's 
supervision  of  the  industrious  and  frolicsome 
community  of  beavers,  of  which  he  has  given 
so  edifying  an  account,  he  succeeded  in  ex- 
tricatiiig  himself  from  the  Wind  River  Moun- 
tains, and  regaining  the  plain  to  the  eastward, 
made  a  great,  bend  to  the  south,  so  as  to  go 


Tr 


^be  6reen  'River  Cacbcd 


293 


round  the  bases  of  the  mountains,  and  arrived 
without  further  incident  of  importance,  at  the 
old  place  of  rendezvous  in  Green  River  Valley, 
on  the  17th  of  September. 

He  found  the  caches^  in  which  he  had  de- 
posited his  superfluous  goods  and  equipments, 
all  safe,  and  having  opened  and  taken  from 
them  the  necessary  supplies,  he  closed  them 
again  ;  taking  care  to  obliterate  all  traces  that 
might  betray  them  to  the  keen  eyes  of  Indian 
marauders. 


j-       '     il 


hi- 1 


M 


■■•5 


Cbapter  f fVf f . 


•IV! 


m 


'  :yi  i 


Route  Towards  Wind  River — Dangerous  Neighbor- 
hood— Alarms  and  Precautions — A  Sham  Encamp- 
ment— Apparition  of  an  Indian  Spy — Midnight 
Move-— A  Mountain  Defile — The  Wind  River  Valley 
— ^Tracking  a  Party — Deserted  Camps — Symptoms 
of  Crows — Meeting  of  Comrades — A  Trapper  En- 
trapped— Crow  Pleasantry — Crow  Spies — A  De- 
campment— Return  to  Green  River  Valley — Meet- 
ing with  Fitzpatrick's  Party — Their  Adventures 
among  the  Crows — Orthodox  Crows. 

ON  the  1 8th  of  September,  Captain  Bonne- 
ville and  his  three  companions  set  out, 
bright  and  early,  to  rejoin  the  main 
party  from  which  they  had  parted  on  Wind 
River.  Their  route  lay  up  the  Green  River 
Valley,  with  that  stream  on  their  right  hand, 
and  beyond  it,  the  range  of  Wind  River  Moun- 
tains. At  the  head  of  the  valley,  they  were  to 
pass  through  a  defile  which  would  bring  them 
out  beyond  the  northern  end  of  these  mountains, 

294 


Slarme  and  precautfotid 


295 


to  the  head  of  Wind  River  ;  where  they  ex- 
pected to  meet  the  main  party,  according  to 
arrangement. 

We  have  already  adverted  to  the  dangerous 
nature  of  this  neighborhood,  infested  by  roving 
bands  of  Crows  and  Blackfeet ;  to  wlioni  the 
numerous  defiles  and  passes  of  the  country 
afford  capital  places  for  ambush  and  surprise. 
The  travellers,  therefore,  kept  a  vigilant  eye 
upon  everything  that  might  give  intimation  of 
lurking  danger. 

About  two  hours  after  midday,  as  they 
reached  the  summit  of  a  hill,  they  discovered 
buffalo  on  the  plain  below,  running  in  every 
direction.  One  of  the  men,  too,  fancied  lie 
heard  the  report  of  a  gun.  It  was  concluded, 
therefore,  that  there  was  some  party  of  Indians 
below,  hunting  buffalo. 

The  horses  were  immediately  concealed  in  a 
narrow  ravine  ;  and  the  captain,  mounting  an 
eminence,  but  concealing  himself  from  view, 
reconnoitred  the  whole  neighborhood  with  a 
telescope.  Not  an  Indian  was  to  be  seen  ;  so, 
after  halting  about  an  hour,  he  resumed  his 
journey.  Convinced,  however,  that  he  was  in 
a  dangerous  neighborhood,  he  advanced  with 
the  utmost  caution  ;  winding  his  way  through 
hollows  and  ravines,  and  avoiding,  as  much  as 
possible,  any  open  tract,  or  rising  ground,  that 


296 


Xonncvil{c*6  BDpentured 


'I '1-    ' 
i'.'.' 

ii:; 

HI.   ; 

. ',  ■ 

'  i  :■ 

iT'    :" 
i  I  ' 

"ill 
ii'l  ;  . 

iii!   -I 
ii  ■  1 


in  i 


'1' 


1-i 


might  betray  his  little  party  to  the  watchful 
eye  of  an  Indian  scout. 

Arriving,  at  length,  at  the  edge  of  the  open 
meadow-land  bordering  on  the  river,  he  again 
observed  the  buflfalo,  as  far  as  he  could  see, 
scampering  in  great  alarm.  Once  more  con- 
cealing the  horses,  he  and  his  companions  re- 
mained for  a  long  time  watching  the  various 
groups  of  the  animals,  as  each  caught  the  panic 
and  started  off;  but  they  sought  in  vain  to  dis- 
cover the  cause. 

They  were  now  about  to  enter  the  mountain 
defile,  at  the  head  of  Green  River  Valley,  where 
they  might  be  waylaid  and  attacked ;  they, 
therefore,  arranged  the  packs  on  their  horses, 
in  the  manner  most  secure  and  convenient  for 
sudden  flight,  should  such  be  necessary.  This 
done,  they  again  set  forward,  keeping  the  most 
anxious  lookout  in  every  direction. 

It  was  now  drawing  towards  evening ;  but 
they  could  not  think  of  encamping  for  the  night, 
in  a  place  so  full  of  danger.  Captain  Bonneville, 
therefore,  determined  to  halt  about  sunset, 
kindle  a  fire,  as  if  for  encampment,  to  cook  and 
eat  supper ;  but,  as  soon  as  it  was  sufficiently 
dark,  to  make  a  rapid  move  for  the  summit  of 
the  mountain,  and  seek  some  secluded  spot 
for  their  night's  lodgings. 
.    Accordingly,  as  the  sun  went  down,  the  little 


1 


(( 


B  Sbam  £ncampmcnt 


897 


party  came  to  a  halt,  made  a  large  fire,  spitted 
their  buffalo  meat  on  wooden  sticks,  and,  when 
sufficiently  roasted,  planted  the  savory  viands 
before  them  ;  cutting  off  huge  slices  with  their 
hunting  knives,  and  supping  with  a  hunter's 
appetite.  The  light  of  their  fire  would  not 
fail,  as  they  knew,  to  attract  the  attention  of 
any  Indian  horde  in  ithe  neighborhood  ;  but 
they  trusted  to  be  off  and  away,  before  any 
prowlers  could  reach  the  place.  While  they 
were  supping  thus  hastily,  however,  one  of 
their  party  suddenly  started  up,  and  shouted 
'  *  Indians  ! ' '  All  were  instantly  on  their  feet, 
with  their  rifles  in  their  hands  ;  but  could  see 
no  enemy.  The  man,  however,  declared  that 
he  had  seen  an  Indian  advancing,  cautiousl}^ 
along  the  trail  which  they  had  made  in  coming 
to  the  encampment ;  who,  the  moment  he  was 
perceived,  had  thrown  himself  on  the  ground, 
and  disappeared.  He  urged  Captain  Bonneville 
instantly  to  decamp.  The  captain,  however, 
took  the  matter  more  coolly.  The  single  fact, 
that  the  Indian  had  endeavored  to  hide  him- 
self, convinced  him  that  he  was  not  one  of  a 
party,  on  the  advance  to  make  an  attack.  He 
was,  probably,  some  scout,  who  had  followed 
up  their  trail,  until  he  came  in  sight  of  their 
fire.  He  would,  in  such  case,  return,  and  re- 
port what  he   had   seen   to  his  companions. 


f'ii 


t  \ 


.11  ! 


ii  i 


In  I 


'  i  ■  ■ 

^  r- .      ! 
t  ■■  ■  •      ■ 

iM 


I'  .  i 


(■'.    i 

I'M 


M  i 


hti  * 


298 


JSonnei^ilIe'0  Bdvcntured 


These,  supposing  the  white  men  had  encamped 
for  the  night,  would  keep  aloe f  until  very  late, 
when  all  should  be  asleep.  They  would  then, 
according  to  Indian  tactics,  make  their  stealthy 
approaches,  and  place  themselves  in  ambush 
around,  preparatory  to  their  attack,  at  the 
usual  hour  of  daylight. 

Such  was  Captain  Bonneville's  conclusion  ; 
in  consequence  of  which,  he  counselled  his 
men  to  keep  perfectly  quiet,  and  act  as  if  free 
from  all  alarm,  until  the  proper  time  arrived 
for  a  move.  They,  accordingly,  continued  their 
repast  with  pretended  appetite  and  jollity  ;  and 
then  trimmed  and  replenished  their  fire,  as  if 
for  a  bivouac.  As  soon,  however,  as  the  night 
had  completely  set  in,  they  left  their  fire  blaz- 
ing ;  walked  quietly  among  the  willows,  and 
then  leaping  into  their  saddles,  made  off  as 
noiselessly  as  possible.  In  proportion  as  they 
left  the  point  of  danger  behind  them,  they  re- 
laxed in  their  rigid  and  anxious  taciturnity, 
and  began  to  joke  at  the  expense  of  their 
enemy  ;  whom  they  pictured  to  themselves 
mousing  in  the  neighborhood  of  their  deserted 
fire,  waiting  for  the  proper  time  of  attack,  and 
preparing  for  a  grand  disappointment. 

About  midnight,  feeling  satisfied  that  they 
had  gained  a  secure  distance,  they  posted  one 
of  their  number  to  keep  watch,  in  case  the 


1 


(3tPind  tbe  f  nMaitd  tbe  Slip 


999 


i' 


re- 


enemy  should  follow  on  the  trail,  and  then, 
turning  abruptly  into  a  dense  and  matted 
thicket  of  willows,  halted  for  the  night  at  the 
foot  of  the  mountain,  instead  of  making  for 
the  summit,  as  they  had  originally  intended. 

A  trapper  in  the  wilderness,  like  a  sailor  on 
the  ocean,  snatches  morsels  of  enjoyment  in 
the  midst  of  trouble,  and  sleeps  soundly  when 
surrounded  by  danger.  The  little  party  now 
made  their  arrangements  for  sleep  with  perfect 
calmness  ;  they  did  not  venture  to  make  a  fire 
and  cook,  it  is  true,  though  generally  done  by 
hunters  whenever  they  come  to  a  halt,  and 
have  provisions.  They  comfo-ted  themselves, 
however,  by  smoking  a  tranquil  pipe  ;  and 
then  calling  in  the  watch,  and  turning  loose 
the  horses,  stretched  themselves  on  their  pal- 
lets, agreed  that  whoever  should  first  awake, 
should  rouse  the  rest,  and  in  a  little  while 
were  all  in  as  sound  sleep  as  though  in  the 
midst  of  a  fortress. 

A  little  before  day,  they  were  all  on  the 
alert ;  it  was  the  hour  for  Indian  maraud.  A 
sentinel  was  immediately  detached,  to  po.st 
himself  at  a  little  distance  on  their  trail,  and 
give  the  alarm,  should  he  see  or  hear  an 
enemy. 

With  the  first  blink  of  dawn,  the  rest  sought 
the  horses ;  brought  them  to  the  camp,  and 


I 


I 


\i: 


300 


J3onncvillc'd  Bdvcnturcs 


1,1 
it'. 


:■'■  I 


,!.   ! 


■'■!  H 


I  .if. 


tied  them  up,  until  an  hour  after  sunrise ; 
when,  the  sentinel  having  reported  that  all  was 
well,  they  sprang  once. more  into  their  saddles, 
and  pursued  the  most  covert  and  secret  paths 
up  the  mountain,  avoiding  the  direct  route. 

At  noon,  they  halted  and  made  a  hasty  re- 
past ;  and  then  bent  their  course  so  as  to  regain 
the  route  from  which  they  had  diverged.  They 
were  now  made  sensible  of  the  danger  from 
which  they  had  just  escaped.  There  were 
tracks  of  Indians  who  had  evidently  been  in 
pursuit  of  them  ;  but  had  recently  returned, 
baffled  in  their  search. 

Trusting  that  they  had  now  got  a  fair  start, 
and  could  not  be  overtaken  before  night,  even 
in  case  the  Indians  should  renew  the  chase, 
they  pushed  briskly  forward,  and  did  not  en- 
camp until  late  ;  when  they  cautiously  con- 
cealed ther  .selves  in  a  secure  nook  of  the 
mountains. 

Without  any  further  alarm,  they  made  their 
way  to  the  head-waters  of  Wind  River,  and 
reached  the  neighborhood  in  which  they  had 
appointed  the  rendezvous  with  their  compan- 
ions. It  was  within  the  precincts  of  the  Crow 
country  ;  the  Wind  River  Valley  being  one  of 
the  favorite  haunts  of  that  restless  tribe.  Afttr 
much  searching,  Captain  Bonneville  came  upon 
a  trail  which  had  evidently  been  made  by  his 


>X   V; 


BnstctiS  of  tbc  Captain 


301 


main  party.  It  was  so  old,  liowe;'er,  that  he 
feared  his  people  might  have  left  the  neighbor- 
hood ;  driven  off,  perhaps,  by  some  of  those  war 
parties  which  were  on  the  prowl.  He  continued 
his  search  with  great  anxiety,  and  no  little  fa- 
tigue ;  for  his  horses  v/ere  jaded,  and  almost 
crippled,  by  their  forced  marches  and  scrani- 
blings  through  rocky  defilts. 

On  the  following  day,  about  noon,  Captain 
Bonneville  came  upon  a  deserted  camp  of  his 
people,  from  which  they  had,  evidently,  turned 
back  ;  but  he  could  find  no  signs  to  indicate 
why  they  had  done  so  ;  whether  they  had  met 
with  misfortune,  or  molestation,  or  in  what 
direction  they  had  gone.  He  was  now,  more 
than  ever,  perplexed. 

On  the  following  day,  he  resumed  his  march 
with  increasing  anxiety.  The  feet  of  his 
horses  had  by  this  time  become  so  worn  and 
wounded  by  the  rocks,  that  he  had  to  make 
moccasins  for  them  of  buflfalo  hide.  About 
noon,  he  came  to  another  deserted  camp  of 
his  men  ;  but  soon  after  lost  their  trail.  After 
great  search,  he  once  more  found  it,  turning  in 
a  southerly  direction  along  the  eastern  basis  of 
the  Wind  River  Mountains,  which  towered  to 
the  right.  He  now  pushed  forward  with  all 
possible  speed,  in  hopes  of  overtaking  the 
party.    At  night,  he  slept  at  another  of  the 


! 


11 


m 
ii:: 

III*' 


l!h^ 


I  'I 


M' 


it'' 


if 


I  \ 


!  ii 


')•'     I- 


■1^ 


'i 

u    '  1 

I':  Mi  J;  I. 


y)2 


Xo\mcviUc*B  BDpenture0 


camps,  from  whicli  tlicy  had  but  recently  de- 
parted. When  the  day  dawned  sufficiently  to 
distinguish  objects,  he  perceived  the  danger 
that  must  be  dogging  the  heels  of  his  main 
party.  All  about  the  camp  were  traces  of  In- 
dians, who  must  have  been  prowling  about  it 
at  the  time  his  people  had  passed  the  night 
there  ;  and  who  must  still  be  hovering  about 
them.  Convinced,  now,  that  the  main  party 
could  not  be  at  any  great  distance,  he  mounted 
a  scout  on  the  best  horse,  and  set  him  forward 
to  overtake  them,  to  warn  them  of  their  dan- 
ger, and  to  order  them  to  halt,  until  he  should 
rejoin  them. 

In  the  afternoon,  to  his  great  joy,  he  met  the 
scout  returning,  with  six  comrades  from  the 
main  party,  leading  fresh  horses  for  his  accom- 
modation ;  and  on  the  following  day  (Septem- 
ber 25th),  all  hands  were  once  more  reunited, 
after  a  separation  of  nearly  three  weeks.  Their 
meeting  was  hearty  and  joyous  ;  for  they  had 
both  experienced  dangers  and  perplexities. 

The  main  party,  in  pursuing  their  course  up 
the  Wind  River  Valley,  had  been  dogged  the 
whole  way  by  a  war  party  of  Crows.  In  one 
place,  they  had  been  fired  upon,  but  without 
injury  :  in  another  place,  one  of  their  horses 
had  been  cut  loose,  and  carried  off.  At  length, 
they  were  so  closely  beset,    that  they  were 


dbe  drappcr  Entrapped 


303 


obliged  to  make  a  retrograde  move,  lest  they 
should  be  surprised  aud  overcome.  This  was 
the  movement  which  had  caused  such  |xjrplex- 
ity  to  Captain  Bonneville. 

The  whole  party  now  remained  encamped 
for  two  or  three  days,  to  give  repose  to  both 
men  and  horses.  Some  of  the  trappers,  how- 
ever, pursued  their  vocations  about  the  neigh- 
boring streams.  While  one  of  them  was  setting 
his  traps,  he  heard  the  tramp  of  horses,  and 
looking  up,  beheld  a  party  of  Crow  braves 
moving  along  at  no  great  distance,  with  a  con- 
siderable cavalcade.  The  trapper  hastened  to 
conceal  himself,  but  was  discerned  by  the  quick 
eye  of  the  savages.  With  whoops  and  yells, 
they  dragged  him  from  his  hiding-place,  flour- 
ished over  his  head  their  tomahawks  and 
scalping-kn  i  ves,  and  for  a  time,  the  poor  trap- 
per gave  himself  up  for  lost.  Fortunately,  the 
Crows  "^i-ere  in  a  jocose,  rather  than  a  sanguin- 
ary mood.  They  amused  themselves  heartily, 
for  a  while,  at  the  expense  of  his  terrors  ;  and 
after  having  played  off  divers  Crow  pranks  and 
pleasantries,  suffered  him  to  depart  unharmed. 
It  is  true,  they  stripped  him  completely,  one 
taking  his  horse,  another  his  gun,  a  third  his 
traps,  a  fourth  his  blanket,  and  so  on,  through 
all  his  accoutrements,  and  even  his  clothing, 
until  he  was  stark  naked :  but  then  they  gen- 


I  r 


I 


frn 

\  \'i  '  I 

]"'  1 

n 

f;    r 

■ 

m 

n!:] 


:ii 


•  IS 


!1 


1'  "  r 
i      I 


i  -  :  ! 


■I  1 


304 


JSonneviUe'd  BDventures 


erousl}^  made  him  a  present  of  an  old  tattered 
buffalo  robe,  and  dismissed  him,  with  many 
complimentary  speeches,  and  much  laughter. 
When  the  trapper  returned  to  the  camp,  in 
such  sorry  plight,  he  was  greeted  with  peals 
of  laughter  from  hisr  comrades,  and  seemed 
more  mortified  by  the  style  in  which  he  had 
been  dismissed,  than  rejoiced  at  escaping  with 
his  life.  A  circumstance  which  he  related  to 
Captain  Bonneville,  gave  some  insight  into  the 
cause  of  this  extreme  jocularity  on  the  part  of 
the  Crows.  They  had  evidently  had  a  run  of 
luck,  and,  like  winning  gamblers,  were  in 
high  good  humor.  Among  twenty-six  fine 
horses,  and  some  mules,  which  composed  their 
cavalcade,  the  trapper  recognized  a  number 
which  had  belonged  to  Fitzpatrick's  brigade, 
when  they  parted  company  on  the  Bighorn. 
It  was  supposed,  therefore,  that  these  vaga- 
bonds had  been  on  his  trail,  and  robbed  him  of 
part  of  his  cavalry. 

On  the  day  following  this  affair,  three  Crows 
came  into  Captain  Bonneville's  camp,  with  the 
most  easy,  innocent,  if  not  impudent  air  imag- 
inable ;  walking  about  with  that  imperturbable 
coolness  and  unconcern,  in  which  the  Indian  ri- 
vals the  fine  gentleman.  As  they  had  not  been 
of  the  set  which  stripped  the  trapper,  though 
evidently  of  the  same   band,  they  were   not 


I ! ;  ■  ■  I 


dbrec  Crow  6ucdtd 


305 


molested.  Indeed,  Captain  Bonneville  treated 
them  with  his  usual  kindness  and  hospita'ity  ; 
permitting  them  to  remain  all  day  in  the  camp 
and  even  to  pass  the  night  there.  At  the 
same  time,  however,  he  caused  a  strict  watch 
to  be  maintained  on  all  their  movements  ;  and 
at  night,  stationed  an  armed  sentinel  neai 
them.  The  Crows  remonstrated  against  the 
latter  being  armed.  This  only  made  the  cap- 
tain suspect  them  to  be  spies,  who  meditated 
treachery ;  he  redoubled,  therefore,  his  pre- 
cautions. At  the  same  time,  he  assured  his 
guests,  that  while  they  were  perfectly  welcome 
to  the  shelter  and  comfort  of  his  camp,  yet, 
should  any  of  their  tribe  venture  to  approach 
during  the  night,  they  would  certainly  be  shot ; 
which  would  be  a  very  unfortunate  circum- 
stance, and  much  to  be  deplored.  To  the  lat- 
ter remark,  they  fully  assented ;  and  shortly 
afterward  commenced  a  wild  song,  or  chant, 
which  they  kept  up  for  a  long  time,  and  in 
which,  they  very  probably  gave  their  friends, 
who  might  be  prowling  around  the  camp, 
notice  that  the  white  men  were  on  the  alert. 
The  night  passed  away  without  disturbance. 
In  the  morning  the  three  Crow  guests  were 
very  pressing  that  Captain  Bonneville  and  his 
party  should  accompany  them  to  their  camp, 
which   they  said  was  close  by.     Instead  of 


ill 


f    I 


VOL.  I.— ao 


II 


p 

m' 

I*  ■ 

1 

1 

,1 . 

I-,: 

.       1   : 

i 

: 

;  ■  ; 

1 !  ■  ■  ', 
i)  '" 


H'  i 


m>^ 


I.,.  I 

■  i 


'if  i 


1:1  :-■ ; 


i1 


m:\ 


306 


3Bonncvi4(c'd  Bdventured 


accepting  their  invitation,  Captain  Bonneville 
took  his  departure  with  all  possible  dispatch, 
eager  to  be  out  of  the  vicinity  of  such  a  pirati- 
cal horde ;  nor  did  he  relax  the  diligence  of 
his  march,  until,  on  the  second  day,  he  reached 
the  banks  of  the  Sweet  Water,  beyond  the 
limits  of  the  Crow  country,  and  a  heavy  fall  of 
snow  had  obliterated  all  traces  of  his  course. 

He  now  continued  on  for  some  few  days,  at 
a  slower  pace,  round  the  point  of  the  mountain 
towards  Green  River,  and  arrived  once  more  at 
the  caches,  on  the  14th  of  October. 

Here  they  found  traces  of  the  band  of  Indians 
who  had  hunted  them  iu  the  defile  towards  the 
head-waters  of  the  Wind  River.  Having  lost 
all  trace  of  them  on  their  way  over  the  moun- 
tains, they  had  turned  and  followed  back  their 
trail  down  Green  River  Valley  to  the  caches. 
One  of  these  they  had  discovered  and  broken 
open,  but  it  fortunately  contained  nothing  but 
fragments  of  old  iron,  which  they  had  scattered 
about  in  all  directions,  and  then  departed.  In 
examining  their  deserted  camp.  Captain  Bon- 
neville discovered  that  it  numbered  thirty-nine 
fires  and  had  more  reason  than  ever  to  congrat- 
ulate himself  on  having  escaped  the  clutches 
of  such  a  formidable  band  of  freebooters. 

He  now  turned  his  course  southward,  under 
cover  of  the  mountains,  and  on  the  25th  of 


i;ii;     k- 


iji.  ■I'ji : 


TTrail  of  a  parts  of  Crowd 


307 


October  reached  Liberge's  Ford,  a  tributary  of 
the  Colorado,  where  he  came  suddenly  upon 
the  trail  of  this  same  war  party,  which  had 
crossed  the  stream  so  recently,  that  the  banks 
were  yet  wet  with  the  water  that  had  been 
splashed  upon  them.  To  judge  from  their 
tracks,  they  could  not  be  less  than  three  hun- 
dred warriors,  and  apparently  of  the  Crow 
nation. 

Captain  Bonneville  was  extremely  uneasy 
lest  this  overpowering  force  should  come  upon 
him  in  some  place  where  he  would  not  have 
V"  '  *  leans  of  fortifying  himself  promptly.  He 
1^.,.  moved  towards  Hane's  Fork,  another 
tributary  of  the  Colorado,  where  he  encamped, 
and  remained  during  the  26th  of  October.  See- 
ing a  large  cloud  of  smoke  to  the  south,  he 
supposed  it  to  arise  from  some  encampment 
of  Shoshonies,  and  sent  scouts  to  procure  in- 
formation and  to  purchase  a  lodge.  It  was,  in 
fact,  a  band  of  Shoshonies,  but  with  them  were 
encamped  Fitzpatrick  and  his  party  of  trap- 
pers. That  active  leader  had  an  eventful  story 
to  relate  of  his  fortunes  in  the  country  of  the 
Crows.  After  parting  with  Captain  Bonneville 
on  the  banks  of  the  Bighorn,  he  made  for  the 
west,  to  trap  upon  Powder  and  Tongue  rivers. 
He  had  between  twenty  and  thirty  men  with 
him,  and  about  one  hundred  horses.     So  large 


if^  .i 


ff-  i-  Hl'li 


30S 


JScnneviUc'd  Bdventure0 


a  cavalcade  could  not  pass  through  the  Crow 
country  without  attracting  the  attention  of  its 
freebooting  hordes.     A  large  band  of  Crows 

ere  soon  on  their  traces,  and  came  up  with 
them  on  the  5th  of  September,  just  as  they  had 
reached  Tongue  River.  The  Crow  chief  came 
forward  with  great  appearance  of  friendship, 
and  proposed  to  Fitzpatrick  that  they  should 
encamp  together.  The  latter,  however,  not 
having  any  faith  in  the  Crows,  declined  the 
invitation,  and  pitched  his  camp  three  miles  '. 
off.  He  then  rode  over,  with  two  or  three 
men,  to  visit  the  Crow  chief,  by  whom  he  was 
received  wMth  great  apparent  cordiality.  In 
the  meantime,  however,  a  party  of  young 
braves,  who  considered  themselves  absolved 
by  his  distrust  from  all  scruples  of  honor,  made 
a  circuit  privately,  and  dashed  into  his  er- 
campment.  Captain  Stewart,  who  had  re- 
mained there  in  the  absence  of  Fitzpatrick, 
behaved  with  great  spirit;  but  the  Crows 
were  too  numerous  and  active.  They  had  got 
possession  of  the  camp,  and  soon  made  booty 
of  everything — carrying  off  all  the  horses.  On 
their  way  back  they  met  Fitzpatrick  returning 
to  his  camp;  and  finished  their  exploit  by 
rifling  and  nearly  stripping  him. 

A  negotiation  now  took  place  between  the 
plundered  white    men    and    the    triumphant 


yit3patrtcfi  aiiD  tbc  Crowd 


3<J«) 


Crows  ;  what  eloquence  and  management  Fitz- 
patrick  made  use  of,  we  do  not  kno"^  ;  but  he 
succeeded  in  prevaihng  upon  the  Crow  chief- 
tain to  return  him  his  horses  and  many  of  his 
traps ;  together  with  his  rifles  and  a  few  rounds 
of  ammunition  for  each  man.  He  then  set  out 
with  all  speed  to  abandon  the  Crow  countrj-, 
before  he  should  meet  with  any  fresh  disasters. 
After  his  departure,  the  consciences  of  some 
of  the  most  orthodox  Crows  pricked  them  sorely 
for  having  suffered  such  a  cavalcade  to  escape 
out  of  their  hands.  Anxious  to  wipe  off"  so 
foul  a  stigma  on  the  reputation  of  the  Crow 
nation,  they  followed  on  his  trail,  nor  quit 
hovering  about  him  on  his  march  until  they 
had  stolen  a  number  of  his  best  horses  and 
mules.  It  was,  doubtless,  this  same  band 
which  came  upon  the  lonely  trapper  on  the 
Popo  Agie,  and  generously  gave  him  an  old 
buffalo  robe  in  exchange  for  his  rifle,  his  traps, 
and  all  his  accoutrements.  With  these  anec- 
dotes, we  shall,  for  the  present,  take  our  leave 
of  the  Crow  country  and  its  vagabond  chivalry. 


1j 


>  ,, 


'    !  I- 


iiV' 


!!; 


'l',\ 


i  li 


.11 

li! 


.  I 


I  |i-  ; 


V 
A  i 


if 


il 


Cbapte^  f flDf f f ♦ 

A  Region  of  Natural  Curiosities— The  Plain  of  White 
Clay — Hot  Springs — The  Beer  Spring — Departure 
to  Seek  the  Free  Trappers — Plain  of  Portneuf— 
Lava — Chasms  and  Gullies — Banneck  Indians — 
Their  Hunt  of  the  BuflFalo— Hunters'  Feast- 
Trencher  Heroes — Bullying  of  an  Absent  Foe — ^The 
Damp  Comrade — ^The  Indian  Spy — Meeting  with 
Hodgkiss — His  Adventures — Poordevil  Indians— 
Triumph  of  the  Bannecks — Blackfeet  Policy  in 
War. 

CROSSING  an  elevated  ridge,  Captain 
Bonneville  now  came  upon  Bear  River, 
which,  from  its  source  to  its  entrance 
into  the  Great  Salt  Lake,  describes  the  figure 
of  a  horseshoe.  One  of  the  principal  head- 
waters of  this  river,  although  supposed  to 
abound  with  beaver,  has  never  been  visited 
by  the  trapper ;  rising  among  rugged  moun- 
tains, and  being  barricaded  by  fallen  pine- 
trees  and  tremendous  precipices. 
Proceeding  down  this  river,  the  party  en- 

3x0 


to 

in 

wii 

is 

th< 


Zbe  Xittic  Xafte 


3" 


camped,  on  the  6th  of  November,  at  the  outlet 
of  a  lake  about  thirty  miles  long,  and  from  two 
to  three  miles  in  width,  completely  imbedded 
in  low  ranges  of  mountains,  and  connected 
with  Bear  River  by  an  impassable  swamp.  It 
is  called  the  Little  Lake,  to  distinguish  it  from 
the  g^eat  one  of  salt  water. 

On  the  loth  of  November,  Captain  Bonne- 
ville visited  a  place  in  the  neighborhood  which 
is  quite  a  region  of  natural  curiosities.  An 
area  of  about  half  a  mile  square  presents  a 
level  surface  of  white  ck  or  fuller's  earth, 
perfectly  spotless,  resembling  a  great  slab  of 
Parian  marble,  or  a  sheet  of  dazzling  snow. 
The  effect  is  strikingly  beautiful  at  all  times  ; 
in  summer,  when  it  is  surrounded  with  verd- 
ure, or  in  autumn,  when  it  contrasts  its  bright 
immaculate  surface  with  the  withered  herbage. 
Seen  from  a  distant  eminence,  it  then  shines 
like  a  mirror,  set  in  the  brown  landscape. 
Around  this  plain  are  clusteied  numerous 
springs  cf  various  sizes  and  temperatures. 
One  of  them,  of  scalding  heat,  boils  furiously 
and  incessantly,  rising  t*-  the  height  of  two  or 
three  feet.  In  another  place,  there  is  an  aper- 
ture in  the  earth,  from  which  rushes  a  column 
of  steam  that  forms  a  perpetual  cloud.  The 
ground  for  some  distance  around  sounds  hol- 
low, and  startles  the  solitary  trapper,  as  he 


I 


vmn^tlB- 


r 

! 

1 } ,'     1 

1  ?' * 

ii  ■ 

U    ^ 

Hi 

1 
■        1 

) 

4  ' 


ill  '1 


y 


I  ! 


i; 


313 


Xonncvi\{e*6  BDventuree 


hears  the  tramp  of  his  horse  giving  the  sound 
of  a  muffled  drum.  He  pictures  to  himself  a 
mysterious  gulf  below,  a  place  of  hidden  fires, 
and  gazes  round  him  with  awe  and  uneasiness. 

The  most  noted  curiosity,  however,  of  this 
singular  region,  is  the  Beer  Springs  of  which 
trappers  give  wonderful  accounts.  They  are 
said  to  turn  aside  from  their  route  through  the 
country  to  drink  of  its  waters,  with  as  much 
eagerness  as  the  Arab  seeks  some  famous  well 
of  the  desert.  Captain  Bonneville  describes  it 
as  having  the  taste  of  beer.  His  men  drank  it 
with  avidity,  and  in  copious  draughts.  It  did 
not  appear  to  him  to  possess  any  medicinal 
properties,  or  to  produce  any  peculiar  effects. 
The  Indians,  however,  refuse  to  taste  it,  and 
endeavor  to  persuade  the  white  men  from 
doing  so. 

We  have  heard  this  also  called  the  Soda 
Spring,  and  described  as  containing  iron  and 
sulphur.  It  probably  possesses  some  of  the 
properties  of  the  Ballston  water. 

The  time  had  now  arrived  for  Captain  Bon- 
neville to  go  in  quest  pf  the  party  of  free  trap- 
pers detached  in  the  beginning  of  July,  under 
the  command  of  Mr.  Hodgkiss,  to  trap  upon 
the  head-waters  of  Salmon  River.  His  inten- 
tion was  to  unite  them  with  the  party  with 
which   he  was  a*:  present  travelling,  that  all 


JSannecli  InMatid 


3M 


might  go  into  quarters  together  for  the  winter. 
Accordingly,  on  the  nth  of  Novenil>er,  he 
took  a  temporary  leave  of  his  band,  appointing 
a  rendezvous  on  Snake  RiVer,  and,  accom- 
panied by  three  men,  set  out  upon  his  journey. 
His  route  lay  across  the  plain  of  the  Portneuf, 
a  tributary  stream  of  Snake  River,  called  after 
an  unfortunate  Canadian  trapper,  murdered 
by  the  Indians.  The  whole  country  through 
which  he  passed,  bore  evidence  of  volcanic 
convulsions  and  conflagration  in  the  olden 
time.  Great  masses  of  lava  lay  scattered  aibout 
in  every  direction ;  the  crags  and  cliffs  had 
apparently  been  under  the  action  of  fire  ;  the 
rocks  in  some  places  seemed  to  hav2  been  in 
a  state  of  fusion  ;  the  plain  was  rent  and  split 
with  deep  chasms  and  guUito,  some  of  which 
were  partly  filled  with  lava. 

They  had  not  proceeded  far,  however,  before 
they  saw  a  party  of  horsemen  galloping  full  tilt 
towards  them.  The}'  instantly  turned,  and 
made  full  speed  for  the  covert  of  a  woody 
stream,  to  fortify  themselves  among  the  trees. 
The  Indians  came  to  a  halt,  and  one  of  them 
came  forward  alone.  He  reached  Captain 
Bonneville  and  his  men  just  as  they  were  dis- 
mounting and  about  to  post  themselves.  A 
few  words  dispelled  all  uneasiness.  It  was  a 
party  of  twenty-five  Banneck  Indians,  friendly 


I 


i 


<i 


1 

I 

] 


'•ii 


11 


i ' .  I' 
J.;! 


!tt: 


ijii 


\\ix 


ill! 


!  ,:i  :|: 


-!   I 


3M 


JSoiineviIIe'0  Bdventures 


to  the  whites,  and  they  proposed,  through  their 
envoy,  that  both  parties  should  encamp  together, 
and  hunt  the  buffalo,  of  which  they  had  discov- 
ered several  large  herds  hard  by.  Captain  Bon- 
neville cheerfully  assented  to  their  proposition, 
being  curious  to  see  their  manner  of  hunting. 

Both  parties  accordingly  encamped  together 
on  a  convenient  spot,  and  prepared  for  the 
hunt.  The  Indians  first  posted  a  boy  on  a 
small  hill  near  the  camp,  to  keep  a  look  out 
for  enemies.  The  "runners"  then,  as  they 
are  called,  mounted  on  fleet  horses,  and  armed 
with  bows  and  arrows,  moved  slowly  and 
caut^'ously  towards  the  buffalo,  keeping  as 
much  as  possible  out  of  sight,  in  hollows  and 
ravines.  When  within  a  proper  distance,  a 
signal  was  given,  and  they  all  opened  at  once 
like  a  pack  of  hounds,  with  a  full  chorus  of 
yells,  dashing  into  the  middle  of  the  herds,  and 
launching  their  arrows  to  the  right  and  left. 
The  plain  seemed  absolutely  to  shake  under 
the  tramp  of  the  buffalo,  as  they  scoured  off. 
The  cows  in  headlong  panic,  the  bulls  furious 
with  rage,  uttering  deep  roars,  and  occasionally 
turning  with  a  desperate  rush  upon  their  pur- 
suers. Nothing  could  surpass  the  spirit,  grace, 
and  dexterity,  with  which  the  Indians  man- 
aged their  horses ;  wheeling  and  coursing 
among  the  affrighted  herd,  and  launching  their 


B  JSuffalo  1}unt 


315 


arrows  with  unerring  aim.  In  the  midst  of 
the  apparent  confusion,  they  selected  their  vic- 
tims with  perfect  judgment,  generally  aiming 
at  the  fattest  of  the  cows,  the  flesh  of  the  bull 
being  nearly  worthless,  at  this  season  of  the 
year.  In  a  few  minutes,  each  of  the  hunters 
had  crippled  three  or  four  cows.  A  single 
shot  was  sufficient  for  the  purpose,  and  the 
animal,  once  maimed,  was  left  to  be  completely 
dispatched  at  the  end  of  the  chase.  Frequently, 
a  cow  was  killed  on  the  spot  by  a  single  arrow. 
In  one  instance.  Captain  Bonneville  saw  an  In- 
dian shoot  his  arrow  completely  through  the 
body  of  a  cow,  so  that  it  struck  in  the  ground 
beyond.  The  bulls,  however,  are  not  so  easily 
killed  as  the  cows,  and  always  cost  the  hunter 
several  arrows,  sometimes  making  battle  upon 
the  horses,  and  chasing  them  furiously,  though 
severely  wounded,  with  the  darts  still  sticking 
in  their  flesh. 

The  grand  scamper  of  the  hunt  being  over, 
the  Indians  proceeded  to  dispatch  the  animals 
that  had  been  disabled  ;  then  cutting  up  the 
carcasses,  they  returned  with  loads  of  meat  to 
the  camp,  where  the  choicest  pieces  were  soon 
roasting  before  large  fires,  and  a  hunterVs  feast 
succeeded  :  at  which  Captain  Bonneville  and 
his  men  were  qualified,  by  previous  fasting,  to 
perform  their  parts  with  great  vigor. 


I 


.1'^ 


I   ,  { 


ill    I 
W  '  1 


ii 


•  .■   I 

■1:  I 
,1   I 


'A 


ill 


316 


J9oiiiicvlUe'0  Bdventured 


Some  men  are  said  to  wax  valorous  upon  a 
full  stomach,  and  such  seemed  to  be  the  case 
with  the  Banneck  braves,  who,  in  proportion 
as  they  crammed  themselves  with  buffalo  meat, 
grew  stout  of  heart,  until,  the  supper  at  an 
end,  they  began  to  chant  war  songs,  setting 
forth  their  mighty  deeds,  and  the  victories 
they  had  gained  over  the  Blackfeet.  Warming 
with  the  theme,  and  inflating  themselves  with 
their  own  eulogies,  these  magnanimous  heroes 
of  the  trencher  would  start  up,  advance  a  short 
distance  beyond  the  light  of  the  fire,  and  apos- 
trophize most  vehemently  their  Blackfeet  ene- 
mies, as  though  they  had  been  within  hearing. 
Ruffling,  and  swelling,  and  snorting,  and  slap- 
ping their  breasts,  and  brandishing  their  arms, 
they  would  vociferate  all  their  exploits ;  re- 
minding the  Blackfeet  how  they  had  drenched 
their  towns  in  tears  and  blood  ;  enumerate  the 
blows  they  had  inflicted,  the  warriors  they  had 
slain,  the  scalps  they  had  brought  off  in 
triumph.  Then,  having  said  everything  that 
could  stir  a  man's  spleen  or  pique  his  valor, 
they  would  dare  their  imaginary  hearers,  now 
that  the  Ban  necks  were  few  in  number,  to 
come  and  take  their  revenge — receiving  no 
reply  to  this  valorous  bravado,  they  would 
conclude  by  all  kinds  of  sneers  and  insults, 
deriding  the  Blackfeet  for  dastards  and  pol- 


TTbe  JSannccli  JSravca 


3»7 


troons,  that  dared  not  accept  their  challenge. 
Such  is  the  kind  of  swaggering  and  rodomon- 
tade in  which  the  "  red  men  "  are  prone  to  in- 
dulge in  their  vainglorious  moments  ;  for,  with 
all  their  vaunted  taciturnity,  they  are  vehe- 
mently prone  at  times  to  become  eloquent 
about  their  exploits,  and  to  sound  their  own 
trumpet. 

Having  vented  their  valor  in  this  fierce  effer- 
vescence, the  Banneck  braves  gradimlly  calmed 
down,  lowered  their  crests,  smoothed  their 
ruffled  feathers,  and  betook  themselves  to  sleep. 
without  placing  a  single  guard  over  their  v  nmp  ; 
so  that,  had  the  Blackfeet  taken  them  at  their 
word,  but  few  of  these  braggart  heroes  might 
have  survived  for  any  further  boasting. 

On  the  following  morning,  Captain  Bonne- 
ville purchased  a  supply  of  buffalo  meat  from 
his  braggadocio  friends  ;  who,  with  all  their 
vaporing,  were  in  fact  a  very  forlorn  horde, 
destitute  of  fire-arms,  and  of  P^most  everything 
that  constitutes  riches  in  savage  life.  The 
bargain  concluded,  the  Bannecks  set  off  for 
their  village,  which  was  situated,  they  said,  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Portneuf,  and  Captain  Bonne- 
ville and  his  companions  shaped  their  course 
towards  Snake  River. 

Arrived  on  the  banks  of  that  river,  he  found 
it  rapid  and  boisterous,  but  not  too  deep  to  be 


3i8 


JSoniteriUe'd  BDventured 


1     ? 


1:         i 


-;  t 


1::| 


Hi    '!, 


;■    :  t 


forded.  In  traversing  it,  however,  one  of  the 
horses  was  swept  suddenly  from  his  footing, 
and  his  rider  was  flung  from  the  saddle  into 
the  midst  of  the  stream.  Both  horse  and  horse- 
man were  extricated  without  any  damage,  ex- 
cept that  the  latter  was  completely  drenched, 
so  that  it  was  necessary  to  kindle  a  fire  to  dry 
him.  While  they  were  thus  occupied,  one  of 
the  party  looking  up,  perceived  an  Indian  scout 
cautiously  reconnoitring  them  from  the  sum- 
mit of  a  neighboring  hill.  The  moment  he 
found  himself  discovered,  he  disappeared  be- 
hind the  hill.  From  his  furtive  movements, 
Captain  Bonneville  suspected  him  to  be  a  scout 
from  the  Blackfeet  camp,  and  that  he  had  gone 
to  report  what  he  had  seen  to  his  companions. 
It  would  not  do  to  loiter  in  such  a  neighbor- 
hood, so  the  kindling  of  the  fire  was  abandoned, 
the  drenched  horseman  mounted  in  dripping 
condition,  and  the  little  band  pushed  forward 
directly  into  the  plain,  going  at  a  smart  pace, 
until  they  had  gained  a  considerable  distance 
from  the  place  of  supposed  danger.  Here  en- 
camping for  the  night,  in  the  midst  of  abun- 
dance of  sage,  or  wormwood,  which  afforded 
fodder  for  their  horses,  they  kindled  a  huge  fire 
for  the  benefit  of  their  damp  comrade,  and  then 
proceeded  to  prepare  a  sumptuous  supper  of 
buffalo  humps  and  ribs,  and  other  choice  bits, 


ascctUxQ  witb  l^oddhidd 


319 


which  they  had  brought  with  them.  After  a 
hearty  repast,  relished  with  an  appetite  un- 
known to  city  epicures,  they  stretched  them- 
selves upon  their  couches  of  skins,  and  under 
the  starry  canopy  of  heaven  enjoyed  the  sound 
and  sweet  sleep  of  hardy  and  well-fed  moun- 
taineers. 

They  continued  on  their  journey  for  several 
days,  without  any  incident  worthy  of  notice, 
and  on  the  19th  of  November,  came  upon  traces 
of  the  party  of  which  they  were  in  search  ; 
such  as  burnt  patches  of  prairie,  and  deserted 
camping  grounds.  All  these  were  carefully 
examined,  to  discover  by  their  freshness  or 
antiquity  the  probable  time  that  the  trappers 
had  left  them  ;  at  length,  after  much  wander- 
ing and  investigating,  they  came  upon  a  regu- 
lar trail  of  the  hunting  party,  which  led  into 
the  mountains,  and  following  it  up  briskly, 
came  about  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of  the 
20th,  upon  the  encampment  of  Hodgkiss  and 
his  band  of  free  trappers,  in  the  bosom  of  a 
mountain  valley. 

It  will  be  recollected  that  these  free  trappers, 
who  were  masters  of  themselves  and  their 
movements,  had  refused  to  accompany  Captain 
Bonneville  back  to  Green  River  in  the  preced- 
ing month  of  July,  preferring  to  trap  about  the 
upper  waters  of  the  Salmon  River,  where  they 


I  ill. 


W-\ 


m:-- 

!|'!i::: 


ii 


:t;. 


II 


m 


I  \ 


320 


JSonnertUe'd  Bdvcnturct) 


expected  to  find  plenty  of  beaver,  and  a  less 
dangerous  neighborhood.  Their  hunt  had  tiot 
been  very  successful.  They  had  penetrated  the 
great  range  of  mountains  among  which  some 
of  the  upper  branches  of  Salmon  River  take 
their  rise,  but  had  become  so  entangled  among 
immense  and  almost  impassable  barricades  of 
fallen  pines,  and  so  impeded  by  tremendous 
precipices,  that  a  greater  part  of  their  season 
had  been  wasted  among  those  mountains.  At 
one  time  they  had  made  their  way  through 
them,  and  reached  the  Bois6e  River ;  but 
meeting  with  a  band  of  Banneck  Indians,  from 
whom  they  apprehended  hostilities,  they  had 
again  taken  shelter  among  the  mountains, 
where  they  were  found  by  Captain  Bonneville. 
In  the  neighborhood  of  their  encampment,  the 
captain  had  the  good  fortune  to  meet  with  a 
family  of  those  wanderers  of  the  mountains, 
emphatically  called  les  dignes  de  pitie,  or  Poor- 
devil  Indians.  These,  however,  appear  to  have 
forfeited  the  title,  for  they  had  with  them  a 
fine  lot  of  skins  of  beaver,  elk,  deer,  and 
mountain  sheep.  These  Captain  Bonneville 
purchased  from  them  at  a  fair  valuation,  and 
sent  them  off  astonished  at  their  own  wealth, . 
and  no  doubt  objects  of  envy  to  all  their  piti- 
ful tribe. 

Being  now  reinforced  by  Hodgkiss  and  his 


JSannccIt  )t)fctore 


321 


band  of  free  trappers,  Captain  Bonneville  put 
himself  at  the  head  of  the  united  parties,  and 
set  out  to  rejoin  those  he  had  recently  left  at 
the  Beer  Spring,  that  they  might  all  go  into 
winter  quarters  on  Snake  River.  On  his  route, 
he  encountered  many  heavy  falls  of  snow, 
which  melted  almc3t  immediately,  so  as  not  to 
impede  his  march,  and  on  the  4th  of  Decem- 
ber he  found  his  other  party,  encamped  in  the 
very  place  where  he  had  partaken  in  the  buffalo 
hunt  vv/th  the  Bannecks. 

The  braggart  horde  was  encamped  about 
three  miles  off,  and  were  just  then  in  high  glee 
and  festivity,  and  more  swaggering  than  ever, 
celebrating  a  prodigious  victory.  It  appeared 
that  a  party  of  their  braves  being  out  on  a 
hunting  excursion,  dicovered  a  band  of  Black - 
feet  moving,  as  they  thought,  to  surprise  their 
hunting  camp.  The  Bannecks  immediately 
posted  themselves  on  each  side  of  a  dark  ra- 
vine, through  which  the  enemy  must  pass,  and 
just  as  they  were  entangled  in  the  midst  of  it, 
attached  them  with  great  fury.  The  Black  feet 
struck  with  sudden  panic,  threw  off  their  buf- 
falo robes  and  fled,  leaving  one  of  their  war- 
riors dead  on  the  spot.  The  victors  eagerly 
gathered  up  the  spoils  ;  but  their  greatest  prize 
was  the  scalp  of  the  Blackfoot  brave.  This 
they  bore  off  in  triumph  to  their  village,  where 


VOL,  I.— ax 


i> 


r 
I 


\U 


ml 


•?". 


I^i 


I 


i,. 


i":  I 


■  f !  .ill 


1 1 
if 


»;      ! 


'h    }>!  .!j 


H  1';'  -  ... 


$29 


JSonncviUc'd  BDvcnturcd 


it  has  ever  since  been  an  object  of  the  greatest 
exultation  and  rejoicing.  It  had  been  elevated 
upon  a  pole  in  the  center  of  the  village,  where 
the  warriors  had  celebrated  the  scalp  dance 
round  it,  w  th  war  feasts,  war  songs,  and  war- 
like harangues.  It  had  then  been  given  up  to 
the  women  and  boys ;  who  had  paraded  it  up 
and  down  the  village  with  shouts  and  chants 
and  antic  dances  ;  occasionally  saluting  it  with 
all  kinds  of  taunts,  invectives,  and  revilings. 

The  Blackfeet,  in  this  affair,  do  not  appear 
to  have  acted  up  to  the  character  which  has 
rendered  them  objects  of  such  terror.  Indeed, 
their  conduct  in  war,  to  the  inexperienced  ob- 
server, is  full  of  inconsistencies  ;  at  one  time 
they  are  headlong  in  courage,  and  heedless  of 
danger;  at  another  time  cautious  almost  to 
cowardice.  To  understand  these  apparent  in- 
congruities, one  must  know  their  principles  of 
warfare.  A  war  party,  however  triumphant, 
if  they  lose  a, warrior  in  the  fight,  bring  back 
a  cause  of  mourning  to  their  people,  which 
casts  a  shade  over  the  glory  of  their  achieve- 
ment. Hence,  the  Indian  is  often  less  fierce 
and  reckless  in  general  battle,  than  he  is  in  a 
private  brawl ;  and  the  chiefs  are  checked  in 
their  boldest  undertakings  by  the  fear  of  sac- 
rificing their  warriors.  .   ^ 

This   peculiarity    is   not   confined    to    the 


the 


poUci?  in  Knar 


3*3 


Blackfeet.  Among  the  Osages,  says  Captain 
Bonneville,  when  a  warrior  falls  in  battle,  his 
comrades,  though  they  may  have  fought  w?th 
consummate  valor,  and  won  a  glorious  victory, 
will  leave  their  arms  upon  the  field  of  battle, 
and  returning  home  with  dejected  counte- 
nances, will  halt  without  the  encampment, 
and  wait  until  the  relatives  of  the  slain  come 
forth  and  invite  them  to  mingle  again  with 
their  people. 


r 


mi 


US'      • 


i:  .1 


<'■■-.' 

ill 

''  ■;  1 

1  !  .  i 
;  (i  ■ 

1  ^'  . 

'    - 1 

J      "  ;  ■ 

■  !        ■       ■ 
j 

:   11  ■;■  ■ 

t   '" 

1 

'i  1 

i:i!  J 


Cbapter  f  f  f  i\ 

Within  Camp  at  the  Portneut— Fine  Springs— The 
Banneck  Indians — ^Their  Honesty — Captai  .  Bonne- 
ville Prepares  for  an  Expedition — Christmas— The 

-    American    Falls — Wild    Scenery — Fishing  Falls — . 
Snake  Indians — Scenery  on  the  Bruneau — View  of 
Vol  ;ai3ic  Cuuntry  from  a  Mountain — Powder  River 
— Bhoshokoes,  or  Root  Diggers— Their   Character 
Habits,  Habitations,  Dogs — Vanity  at  its  Last  Shift. 

IN  establishing  his  winter  camp  near  the 
Portneuf,  Captain  Bonneville  had  drawn 
off  to  some  little  distance  irom  his  Banneck 
friends,  to  avoid  all  annoyance  from  their  inti- 
macy or  intrusions.  In  so  doing,  however,  he 
had  been  obliged  to  take  up  his  quarters  on 
the  extreme  edge  of  the  flat  land,  where  he  was 
encompassed  with  ice  and  ^now,  and  had  noth- 
ing better  for  his  horses  to  subsist  on  than 
wormwood.  The  Bannecks,  on  the  contrary, 
were  encamped  among  fine  springs  of  water, 
where  there  was  grass  in  abundance.  Some 
of  these  springs  gush  out  of  the  earth  in  suflS- 
dent  quantity  to  turn  a  mill,  and  furnish  beau- 

334 


flatural  <3ood*TIQlill 


325 


I i fill  streams,  clear  as  crystal,  and  full  of  trout 
of  a  large  size,  which  may  be  seen  darting 
about  the  transparent  water. 

Winter  now  set  in  regularly.  The  snow  had 
fallen  frequently,  and  in  large  quantities,  and 
covered  the  ground  to  the  depth  of  a  foot ;  and 
the  continued  coldness  of  the  weather  prevented 
any  thaw. 

By  degrees,  a  distrust  which  at  first  subsisted 
between  the  Indians  and  the  trappers,  subsided, 
and  gave  way  to  mutual  confidence  and  good- 
will. A  few  presents  convinced  the  chiefs  that 
the  white  men  were  their  friends ;  nor  were 
the  white  men  wanting  in  proofs  of  the  honesty 
and  good  faith  of  their  savage  neighbors.  Oc- 
casionally, the  deep  snow  and  the  want  of  fod- 
der obliged  them  to  turn  their  weakest  horses 
out  to  roam  in  quest  of  sustenance.  If  they  at 
any  time  strayed  to  the  camp  of  the  Bannecks, 
they  were  immediately  brought  back.  It  must 
be  confessed,  however,  that  if  the  stray  horse 
happened,  by  any  chance,  to  be  in  vigorous 
plight  and  good  condition,  though  he  was 
equally  sure  to  be  returned  by  the  honest  Ban- 
necks,  yet  it  was  always  after  the  lapse  of  sev- 
eral days,  and  in  a  very  gaunt  and  jaded  state ; 
and  always  with  the  remark,  that  they  had 
found  him  a  long  way  off.  The  uncharitable 
were  apt  to  surmise  that  he  had,   in  the  in- 


I  ■^'^  i 


111!:; 


Ji*' 


'     i  ■ 


Hi;!;; 


hi:' 


i:i: 


W 


f! 
m 

m 

h 


m 


■\ ; 


326 


JSoniteviUe'0  B^venturce 


terim,  been  well  used  up  in  a  buffalo  hunt ; 
but  those  accustomed  to  Indian  morality  in 
the  matter  of  horse-flesh,  considered  it  a  sin- 
gular evidence  of  honesty,  that  he  should  be 
brought  back  at  all. 

Being  convinced,  therefore,  from  these  and 
other  circumst?nces,  that  hii  people  were  en- 
camped in  the  neighborhood  of  a  tribe  as  hon- 
est as  they  were  valiant,  and  satisfied  that  they 
would  pass  their  winter  unmolested,  Captain 
Bonneville  prepared  for  a  reconnoitring  expe- 
dition of  great  extent  and  peril.  This  was  to 
penetrate  to  the  Hudson's  Bay  establishments 
on  the  banks  of  the  Columbia,  and  to  make 
himself  acquainted  with  the  country  and  the 
Indian  tribes  ;  it  being  one  part  of  his  scheme 
to  establish  a  trading  post  somewhere  on  the 
lower  part  of  the  river,  so  as  to  participate  in 
the  trade  lost  to  the  United  States  by  the  cap- 
ture of  Astoria.  This  expedition  would,  of 
course,  take  him  through  the  Snake  River 
country,  and  across  the  Blue  Mountains,  the 
scenes  of  so  much  hardship  and  disaster  to 
Hunt  and  Crooks,  and  their  Astorian  bands, 
who  first  explored  it,  and  he  would  have  to 
pass  through  it  in  the  same  frightful  season, 
the  depth  of  the  winter. 

The  idea  of  risk  and  hardship,  however, 
only  served  to  stimulate  the  adventurous  spirit 


B  perilou0  BipeDition 


327 


o  hunt  ; 
rality  iu 
it  a  sin- 
lould  be 

ese  and 
were  en- 

as  hon- 
hat  they 

Captain 
ig  expe- 
s  was  to 
shments 
to  make 
and  the 
» scheme 
■  on  the 
:ipate  in 
the  cap- 
»ald,    of 
e  River 
lins,  the 
aster  to 

bands, 
have  to 
season, 

awever, 
is  spirit 


of  the  captain.  He  chose  three  companions 
for  his  journey,  put  up  a  small  stock  of  neces- 
saries in  the  most  portable  form,  and  selected 
five  horses  and  mules  for  iiemselves  and  their 
baggage.  He  proposed  to  rejoin  his  band  in 
the  early  part  of  March,  at  the  winter  encamp- 
ment near  the  Portneuf.  All  these  arrange- 
ments being  completed,  he  mounted  his  horse 
on  Christmas  morning,  and  set  off  with  his 
three  comrad  ?s.  They  halted  a  little  beyond 
the  Banneck  camp,  and  made  their  Christmas 
dinner,  which,  if  not  a  very  merry,  was  a  very 
hearty  one,  after  which  they  resumed  their 
journey. 

They  were  obliged  to  travel  slowly,  to  spare 
their  horses,  for  the  snow  had  increased  iu 
depth  to  eighteen  inches ;  and  though  some- 
what packed  and  frozen,  was  not  sufficiently 
so  to  yield  firm  footing.  Their  route  lay  to 
the  west,  down  along  the  left  side  of  Snake 
River,  and  they  were  several  days  in  reaching 
the  first,  or  American  Falls.  The  banks  of 
the  river,  for  a  considerable  distance,  both 
above  and  below  the  falls,  have  a  volcanic 
character ;  masses  of  basaltic  rock  are  piled 
one  upon  another ;  the  water  makes  its  way 
through  their  broken  chasms,  boiling  through 
narrow  channels,  or  pitching  in  beautiful  cas- 
cades over  ridges  of  basaltic  columns. 


HH 


( 


V 


338 


JSonnevflle's  Bdventitre0 


i 


IV  i 


i 


(       ^ 


!;;■:;! 


'  :•  1, 

Pi' 

i'  ! 


n^' 


Beyond  these  falls,  they  came  to  a  pictur- 
esque but  inconsiderable  stream,  called  the 
Cassi^.  It  runs  through  a  level  valley,  about 
four  miles  wide,  where  the  soil  is  good ;  but 
the  prevalent  coldness  and  dryness  of  the  climate 
is  unfavorable  to  vegetation.  Near  to  this 
stream  there  is  a  small  mountain  of  mica  slate, 
including  garnets.  Granite,  in  small  blocks, 
is  likewise  seen  in  this  neighborhood,  and 
white  sandstone.  From  this  river,  the  travel- 
lers had  a  prospect  of  the  snowy  heights  of  the 
Salmon  River  Mountains  to  the  north  ;  the 
nearest,  at  least  fifty  miles  distant. 

In  pursuing  his  course  westward.  Captain 
Bonneville  generally  kept  several  miles  from 
Snake  River,  crossing  the  heads  of  its  tributary 
streams ;  though  he  often  found  the  open 
countiy  so  encumbered  by  volcanic  rocks  as  to 
render  travelling  extremely  difficult.  When- 
ever he  approached  Snake  River,  he  found  it 
running  through  a  broad  chasm,  with  steep, 
perpendicular  sides  of  basaltic  rock.  After 
several  days*  travel  across  a  level  plain,  he 
came  to  a  part  of  the  river  which  filled  him 
with  astonishment  and  admiration.  As  far  as 
the  eye  could  reach,  the  river  was  walled  in  by 
perpendicular  cliffs  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet 
high,  beetling  like  dark  and  gloomy  battle- 
ments,   while    blocks   and    fragments   lay  in 


#i0bhid  ^alld 


329 


masses  at  their  feet,  in  the  midst  of  the  boiling 
and  whirling  current.  Just  above,  the  whole 
stream  pitched  in  one  cascade  above  forty  feet 
in  height,  with  a  thundering  sound,  casting  up 
a  volume  of  spray  that  hung  in  the  air  like  a  sil- 
ver mist.  These  are  called  by  some  the  Fishing 
Falls,  as  the  salmon  are  taken  here  in  immense 
quantities.     They  cannot  get  by  these  falls. 

After  encamping  at  this  place  all  night. 
Captain  Bonneville,  at  sunrise,,  descended  with 
his  party  through  a  narrow  ravine,  or  rather 
crevice,  in  the  vast  wall  of  basaltic  rock  which 
bordered  the  river  ;  this  being  the  only  mode, 
for  many  miles,  of  getting  to  the  margin  of  the 
stream. 

The  snow  lay  in  a  thin  crust  along  the  banks 
of  the  river,  so  that  their  travelling  was  much 
more  easy  than  it  had  been  hitherto.  There 
were  foot-tracks,  also,  made  by  the  natives, 
which  greatly  facilitated  their  progress.  Oc- 
casionally, they  met  the  inhabitants  of  this 
wild  region  ;  a  timid  race,  and  but  scantily 
provided  with  the  necessaries  of  life.  Their 
dress  consisted  of  a  mantle  about  four  feet 
square,  formed  of  strips  of  rabbit  skins  sewed 
together  :  this  they  hung  over  their  shoulders, 
in  the  ordinary  Indian  mode  of  wearing  a  blan- 
ket. Their  weapons  were  bows  and  arrows ; 
the  latter  tipped  with  obsidian,  which  abounds 


1  ) 


'.f. 


■  I   , 


li 


^: 


.1   , 


I 


330 


JSonnevillc'd  BDvcnturcd 


in  the  neighborliood.  Their  huts  were  shaped 
like  haystacks,  and  constructed  of  branches  of 
willow  covered  with  long  grass,  so  as  to  be 
warm  and  comfortable.  Occasionally  they 
were  surrounded  by  small  inclosures  of  worm- 
wood, about  three  feet  high,  which  gave  them 
a  cottage-like  appearance.  Three  or  four  of 
these  tenaments  were  occasionally  grouped  to- 
gether in  some  wild  and  striking  situation,  and 
had  a  picturesque  effect.  Sometimes  they  were 
in  sufficient  number  to  form  a  small  hamlet. 
From  these  people,  Captain  Bonneville's  party 
frequently  purchased  salmon,  dried  in  an  ad- 
mirable manner,  as  were  likewise  the  roes. 
This  seemed  to  be  their  prime  article  of  food  ; 
but  they  were  extremely  anxious  to  get  buffalo 
meat  in  exchange. 

The  high  walls  and  rocks,  within  which  the 
travellers  had  been  so  long  inclosed,  now  occa- 
sionally presented  openings,  through  which 
they  were  enabled  to  ascend  to  the  plain,  and 
to  cut  off  considerable  bends  of  the  river. 

Throughout  the  whole  extent  of  this  vast 
and  singular  chasm,  the  scenery  of  the  river  is 
said  to  be  of  the  most  wild  and  romantic  char- 
acter. The  rocks  present  every  variety  of 
masses  and  grouping.  Numerous  small  streams 
come  rushing  and  boiling  through  narrow  clefts 
and  ravines  :  one  of  a  considerable  size  issued 


11  li. 


Scenery  o(  tbc  JSruneau 


33« 


from  the  face  of  a  precipice,  within  twenty-five 
feet  of  its  summit  ;  and  after  runninj;  in  nearly 
a  horizontal  line  for  about  one  hundred  feet, 
fell,  by  numerous  small  cascades,  to  the  rocky 
bank  of  the  river. 

In  its  career  through  this  vast  and  singular 
defile,  Snake  River  is  upwards  of  three  hundred 
yards  wide,  and  as  clear  as  spring  water. 
Sometimes  it  steals  along  with  a  tranquil  and 
noiseless  course  ;  at  other  times,  for  miles  and 
miles,  it  dashes  on  in  a  thousand  rapids,  wild 
and  beautiful  to  the  eye,  and  lulling  the  ear 
with  the  soft  tumult  of  plashing  waters. 

Many  of  the  tributary  streams  of  Snake  River 
rival  it  in  the  wilderness  and  picturesqueness 
of  their  scenery.  That  called  the  Bruneau  is 
particularly  cited.  It  runs  through  a  tre- 
mendous chasm,  rather  than  a  valley,  extend- 
ing upwards  of  a  hundred  and  fifty  miles.  You 
come  upon  it  on  a  sudden,  in  traversing  a  level 
plain.  It  seems  as  if  you  could  throw  a  stone 
across  from  cliff  to  cliff;  yet,  the  valley  is  near 
two  thousand  feet  deep  :  so  that  the  river  looks 
like  an  inconsiderable  stream.  Basaltic  rocks 
rise  perpendicularly,  so  that  it  is  impossible  to 
get  from  the  plain  to  the  water,  or  from  the 
river  margin  to  the  plain.  The  current  is 
bright  and  limpid.  Hot  springs  are  found  on 
the  borders  of  this  river.     One  bursts  out  of 


332 


:iBonnevtlIc'd  BDventures 


rii'' 


i-, .' 


'I 


the  cliff  forty  feet  above  the  river,  in  a  stream 
sufficient  to  turn  a  mill,  and  sends  up  a  cloud 
of  vapor. 

We  find  a  characteristic  picture  of  this  vol- 
canic region  of  mountains  and  streams,  fur- 
nished by  the  journal  of  Mr.  Wyeth,  which  lies 
before  us  ;  who  ascended  a  peak  in  the  neigh- 
borhood we  are  describing.  From  this  summit, 
the  country,  he  says,  appears  an  indescribable 
chaos  ;  the  tops  of  the  hills  exhibit  the  same 
strata  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach  ;  and  appear 
to  have  once  formed  the  level  of  the  country  ; 
and  the  valleys  to  be  formed  by  the  sinking  of 
the  earth,  rather  than  the  rising  of  the  hills. 
Through  the  deep  cracks  and  chasms  thus 
formed,  the  rivers  and  brooks  make  their  way, 
which  renders  it  difficult  to  follow  them.  All 
these  basaltic  channels  are  called  "  cut  rocks" 
by  the  trappers.  Many  of  the  mountain  streams 
disappear  in  the  plains  ;  either  absorbed  by 
their  thirsty  soil,  and  by  the  porous  surface  of 
the  lava,  or  swallowed  up  in  gulfs  and  chasms. 

On  the  12th  January  (1834),  Captain  Bonne- 
ville reached  Powder  River,  much  the  largest 
stream  that  he  had  seen  since'  leaving  the 
Portneuf  He  struck  it  about  three  miles 
above  its  entrance  into  Snake  River.  Here  he 
found  himself  above  the  lower  narrows  and 
defiles  of  the  latter  rivi:r,  and  in  an  open  and 


!i   ! 


SbO0boIioe0 


333 


level  country.  The  natives  now  made  their 
appearance  in  considerable  numbers,  and 
evinced  the  most  insatiable  curiosity  respecting 
the  white  men  ;  sitting  in  groups  for  hours 
together,  exposed  to  the  bleakest  winds,  merely 
for  the  pleasure  of  gazing  upon  the  strangers, 
and  watching  every  movement.  These  are  of 
that  branch  of  the  great  Snake  tribe  called 
Shoshokoes,  or  Root  Diggers,  from  their  sub- 
sisting, in  a  great  measure,  on  the  roots  of 
the  earth  ;  though  they  likewise  take  fish  in 
great  quantities,  and  hunt,  in  a  small  way. 
They  are,  in  general,  verj^  poor  ;  destitute  of 
most  of  the  comforts  of  life,  and  extremely 
indolent :  but  a  mild,  inoiFensive  race.  They 
differ,  in  many  respects,  from  the  other  branch 
of  the  Snake  tribe,  the  Shoshonies,  who  possess 
horses,  are  more  roving  and  adventurous,  and 
hunt  the  bufifalo. 

On  the  following  day,  as  Captain  Bonneville 
approached  the  mouth  of  Powder  River,  he 
discovered  at  least  a  hundred  families  of  these 
Diggers,  as  they  are  familiarly  called,  assembled 
in  one  place.  The  women  and  children  kept 
at  a  distance,  perched  among  the  rocks  and 
cliffs,  their  eager  curiosity  being  somewhat 
dashed  with  fear.  From  their  elevated  posts, 
they  scrutinized  the  strangers  with  the  most 
intense  earnestuess ;  regarding  them  with  al- 


w 


]'V: 


h' 


l:it'  ■■ 


!  I. 


334 


JSoniicviUc'd  BDvcnturcd 


most  as  much  awe  as  if  they  had  been  beings 
of  a  supernatural  order. 

Tlie  men,  however,  were  by  no  means  so 
shy  and  reserved  ;  but  importuned  Captain 
Bonneville  and  his  companions  excessively  by 
their  curiosity.  Nothing  escaped  their  notice  ; 
and  anything  they  could  lay  their  hands  on 
miderwent  the  most  minute  examination.  To 
get  rid  of  such  inquisitive  neighbors,  the 
travellers  kept  on  for  a  considerable  distance, 
before  they  encamped  for  the  night. 

The  country  hereabout  was  generally  level 
and  sandy  ;  producing  very  little  grass,  but  a 
considerable  quantity  of  sage  or  wormwood. 
The  plains  were  diversified  by  isolated  hills, 
all  cut  off,  as  it  were,  about  the  same  height, 
so  as  to  have  tabular  summits.  In  this  they 
resembled  the  isolated  hills  of  the  great  prairies 
east  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  ;  especially  those 
found  on  the  plains  of  the  Arkansas. 

The  high  precipices  which  had  hitherto 
walled  in  the  channel  of  Snake  River  had  now 
disappeared,  and  the  banks  were  of  the  ordi- 
nary height.  It  should  be  observed,  that  the 
great  valleys  or  plains  through  which  the 
Snake  River  wound  its  course,  were  generally 
of  great  breadth,  extending  on  each  side  from 
thirty  to  forty  miles ;  where  the  view  was 
bounded  by  unbroken  ridges  of  mountains. 


B  IDtUa^e  ot  'Root  Diodecs 


335 


The  travellers  found  but  little  snow  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Powder  River,  though  the 
weather  continued  intensely  cold.  They  learnt 
a  lesson,  however,  from  their  forlorn  friends, 
the  Root  Diggers,  which  they  subsequently 
found  of  great  service  in  their  wintry  wander- 
ings. They  frequently  observed  them  to  be 
furnished  with  long  ropes,  twisted  from  the 
bark  of  the  wormwood.  This  they  used  as  a 
slow  match,  carrying  it  always  lighted.  When- 
ever they  wished  to  warm  themselves,  they 
would  gather  together  a  little  dry  wormwood, 
apply  the  match,  and  in  an  instant  produce  a 
cheering  blaze. 

Captain  Bonneville  gives  a  cheerless  account 
of  a  village  of  these  Diggers,  which  he  saw  in 
crossing  the  plain  below  Powder  River.  ' '  They 
live,"  says  he,  "without  any  further  protec- 
tion from  the  inclemency  of  tlj^  season  than  a 
sort  of  break- weather,  about  three  feet  high, 
composed  of  sage  (or  wormwood),  and  erected 
around  them  in  the  shape  of  a  half-moon." 
Whenever  he  met  with  them,  however,  they 
had  always  a  large  suite  of  half-starved  dogs  ; 
for  these  animals,  in  savage  as  well  as  in 
civilized  life,  seem  to  be  the  concomitants  of 
beggary. 

These  dogs,  it  must  be  allowed,  were  of 
more  use  than  the  beggarly  curs  of  cities.     The 


.  1    ^  ~ 


m 


■•ir, 


il'i'l 


11'^ 


f 

ft: 


'f 


m 


336 


XonncviUc*0  'B^ventntcs 


Ludian  children  used  them  in  hunting  the  small 
game  of  th^^  neighborhood,  such  as  rabbits  and 
prairie  dogs  ;  in  which  mongrel  kind  of  chase 
they  acquitted  themselves  with  some  credit. 

Sometimes  the  Diggers  aspire  to  nobler 
game,  and  succeed  in  trapping  the  antelope, 
the  fleetest  animal  of  the  prairies.  The  pro- 
cess by  which  this  is  efifected  is  somewhat 
singular.  When  the  snow  has  disappeared, 
says  Captain  Bonneville,  and  the  ground  be- 
come soft,  the  women  go  into  the  thickest 
fields  of  wormwood,  and  pulling  it  up  in  great 
quantities,  construct  with  it  a  hedge,  about 
three  feet  high,  inclosing  about  a  hundred  acres. 
A  single  opening  is  left  for  the  admission  of  the 
game.  This  done,  the  women  conceal  them- 
selves behind  the  wormwood,  and  wait  patiently 
for  the  coming  of  the  antelopes  ;  which  some- 
times enter  this  spacious  trap  in  considerable 
numbers.  As  soon  as  they  are  in,  the  women 
give  the  signal,  and  the  men  hasten  to  play 
their  part.  But  one  of  them  enters  the  pen  at 
a  time  ;  and,  after  chasing  the  terrified  animals 
round  the  inclosure,  is  relieved  by  one  of  his 
companions.  Ui  this  way  the  hunters  take 
their  turns,  relieving  each  other,  and  keeping 
up  a  continued  pursuit  by  relays,  without 
fatigue  to  themselves.  The  poor  antelopes,  in 
the  end,  are  so  wearied  down,  that  the  whole 


iBnttnpping  of  Game 


337 


party  of  men  enter  and  dispatch  them  with 
cUibs — not  one  escaping  that  has  entered  the 
inclosure.  The  most  curious  circumstance  in 
this  chdse  is,  that  an  animal  so  fleet  and  agile 
as  the  antelope,  and  straining  for  its  life,  should 
range  round  and  round  this  fated  inclosure, 
without  attempting  to  overleap  the  low  barrier 
which  surrounds  it.  Such,  however,  is  said  to 
be  the  fact  ;  and  such  their  only  mode  of 
hunting  the  antelope. 

Notwithstanding  the  absence  of  all  comfort 
and  convenience  in  their  habitations,  and  the 
general  squalidness  of  their  appearance,  the 
Shoshokoes  do  not  appear  to  be  destitute  of 
ingenuity.  They  manufacture  good  ropes, 
and  even  a  tolerably  fine  thread,  from  a  sort 
of  weed  found  in  their  neighborhood  ;  and  con- 
struct bowls  and  jugs  out  of  a  kind  of  basket- 
work  formed  from  small  strips  of  wood  plaited  : 
these  by  the  aid  of  a  little  wax,  they  render 
perfectly  water  tight.  Beside  the  roots  on  which 
fhey  mainly  depend  for  subsistence,  they  collect 
great  quantities  of  seed  of  various  kinds,  beaten 
with  one  hand  out  of  the  tops  of  the  plants  into 
wooden  bowls  held  for  that  purpose.  The 
seed  thus  collected  is  winnowed  and  parched, 
and  ground  between  two  stones  into  a  kind  of 
meal  or  flour  ;  which,  when  mixed  with  water, 
forms  a  very  palatable  paste  or  gruel. 


r  • 

:V1       ' 


338 


J}onncvlUc'0  B^vcnturcd 


u. 


ifi; 


i  !  m 


S!r 


Some  of  lliese  people,  more  provident  and 
industrious  than  the  rest,  lay  up  a  stock  of 
dried  salmon,  and  other  fish  for  winter:  with 
these,  they  were  ready  to  traffic  with  the  trav- 
ellers for  any  objects  of  utility  in  Indian  life  ; 
giving  a  large  quantity  in  exchange  for  an  awl, 
a  knife,  or  a  fish-hook.  Others  were  in  the 
most  abject  state  of  want  and  starvation,  and 
would  even  gather  up  the  fish-bones  which 
the  travellers  threw  away  after  a  repast,  warm 
them  over  again  at  the  fire,  and  pick  them 
with  the  greatest  avidity. 

The  further  Captain  Bonneville  advanced 
into  the  country  of  these  Root  Diggers,  the 
more  evidence  he  perceived  of  their  rude  and 
forlorn  condition.  **They  were  destitute," 
says  he,  **  of  the  necessary  covering  to  protect 
them  from  the  weather  ;  and  seemed  to  be  in 
the  most  unsophisticated  ignorance  of  any 
other  propriety  or  advantage  in  the  use  of 
clothing.  One  old  dame  had  absolutely  noth- 
ing on  her  person  but  a  thread  round  her  neck 
from  which  was  pendent  a  solitary  bead." 

What  stage  of  human  destitution,  however, 
is  too  destitute  for  vanity  !  Though  these 
naked  and  forlorn-looking  beings  had  neither 
toilet  to  arrange,  nor  beauty  to  contemplate, 
their  greatest  passion  was  for  a  mirror.  It 
was  a  **  great  medicine,"  in  their  eyes.     The 


IDanite  at  ft0  Xa0t  Sbift 


330 


sight  of  one  was  sufficient,  at  any  time,  to 
throw  them  into  a  paroxysm  of  eagerness  and 
delight ;  and  they  were  ready  to  give  anything 
they  had  for  the  smallest  fragment  in  which 
they  might  behold  their  squalid  features. 
With  this  simple  instance  of  vanity  in  its  prim- 
itive but  vigorous  state,  we  shall  close  our 
remarks  on  the  Root  Diggers. 


KND  OF  VOI^UMK  I. 


iwi. 


I'^x. 


\  '  >• 


^be  Hbventuree  of  Captain 
Bonneville 


'3 


LlL. 


THE  ADVEN     'RES 


OF 


CAPTAIN   BONNEVILLE. 


Cbapter  f  • 

Temperature  of  the  Climate — Root  Diggers  on  Horse- 
back— An  Indian  Guide — Mountain  Prospects — The 
Grand  Rond — Difficulties  on  Snake  River — A  Scram- 
ble over  the  Blue  Mountains — Su^erings  from 
Hunger — Prospect  of  the  Immahah  Valley — The 
Exhausted  Travellei. 


-m 


THK  temperature  of  the  regions  west  of 
the  Rocky  Mountains  is  much  milder 
than  in  the  same  latitudes  on  the  At- 
lantic side ;  the  upper  plains,  however,  which 
lie  at  a  distance  from  the  sea-coast,  are  subject 
in  winter  to  considerable  vicissitude ;  being 
traversed  by  lofty   "  sierras,"    crowned  with 


VOL,  U, 


.^.V!^. 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT3) 


fe^. 


^ 


1.0 


1.1 


|io   "^     i^H 

m 


i-    .                      . 

11:25     IIU.       1.6 
1 II  =      ^= 

^ 

6"     

» 

Photographic 

Sdences 
Corporation 


23  WKST  MAIN  STRUT 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  MS80 

(716)  872-4503 


SJ 


\ 


s> 


4^ 


■i 


.-6^ 


'V-     !i 
■  :■      U 


,1,. 


<: :  1 


'Is 


•I;  ■  '  ' 


It:' I 


I 


■i:  ( 


3  J8onncviUe'0  B^venturcs 

' k 

perpetual  snow,  which  often  produce  flaws  and 
streaks  of  intense  cold.  This  was  experienced 
by  Captain  Bonneville  and  his  companions  in 
their  progress  westward.  At  the  time  when 
they  left  the  Bannecks,  Snake  River  was 
frozen  hard  :  as  they  proceeded,  the  ice  became 
broken  and  floating  ;  it  gradually  disappeared, 
and  the  weather  became  warm  and  pleasant, 
as  they  approached  a  tributary  stream  called 
the  Little  Wyer  ;  and  the  soil,  which  was 
generally  of  a  watery  clay,  with  occasional  in- 
tervals of  sand,  was  soft  to  the  tread  of  the 
horses.  After  a  time,  however,  the  mountains 
approached  and  flanked  the  river  ;  the  snow 
lay  deep  in  the  valleys,  and  the  current  was 
once  more  ice-bound. 

Here  they  were  visited  by  a  party  of  Root 
Diggers,  who  were  apparently  rising  in  the 
world,  for  they  had  "  horse  to  ride  and  weapon 
to  wear,"  and  were  altogether  better  clad  and 
equipped  than  any  of  the  tribe  that  Captain 
Bonneville  had  met  with.  They  were  just 
from  the  plain  of  Bois^e  River,  where  they  had 
left  a  number  of  their  tribe,  all  as  well  pro- 
vided as  themselves,  having  guns,  horses,  and 
comfortable  clothing.  All  these  they  obtained 
from  the  Lower  Nez  Percys,  with  whom  they 
were  in  habits  of  frequent  traffic.  They  ap- 
peared to  have  imbibed  from  that  tribe  their 


Bn  f  itDian  Guide 


noncombative  principles,  being  miid  and  in- 
offensive in  their  manners.  Like  them,  also, 
they  had  something  of  religious  feelings  ;  for 
Captain  Bonneville  observed  that,  before  eat- 
ing, they  washed  their  hands  and  made  a  short 
prayer  ;  which  he  understood  was  their  invari- 
able custom.  From  these  Indians,  he  obtained 
a  considerable  supply  of  fish,  and  an  excellent 
and  well-conditioned  horse,  to  replace  one 
which  had  become  too  weak  for  the  journey. 

The  travellers  now  moved  forward  with 
renovated  spirits ;  the  snow,  it  is  true,  lay 
deeper  and  deeper  as  they  advanced,  but  they 
trudged  on  merrily,  considering  themselves 
well  provided  for  the  journey,  which  could  not 
be  of  much  longer  duration. 

They  had  intended  to  proceed  up  the  banks  of 
Gun  Creek,  a  stream  which  flows  into  Snake 
River  from  the  west ;  but  were  assured  by  the 
natives  that  the  route  in  that  direction  was  im- 
practicable. The  latter  advised  them  to  keep 
along  Snake  River,  where  they  would  not  be 
impeded  by  the  snow.  Taking  one  of  the  Dig- 
gers for  a  guide,  they  set  off  along  the  river, 
and  to  their  joy  soon  found  the  country  free 
from  snow,  as  had  been  predicted,  so  that  their 
horses  once  more  had  the  benefit  of  tolerable 
pasturage.  Their  Digger  proved  an  excellent 
guide,  trudging  cheerily  in  the  advance.     He 


i>iiM  jumnimamianm 


W-'': 


*     ■  ■: 

m    ! 


*■':  ,1' 


iSiif' 


ik- 


i 


fiHi 


I. 

li:; 

M 


I! 


m: 


;i.   I  ■ 


-f 


4  3DonncviUe'0  Bdventurcd 

made  an  unsuccessful  shot  or  two  at  a  deer  and 
a  beaver,  but  at  night  found  a  rabbit  hole, 
whence  he  extracted  the  occupant,  upon  which, 
with  the  addition  of  a  fish  given  him  by  the 
travellers,  he  made  a  hearty  supper,  and  re- 
tired to  rest,  filled  with  good  cheer  and  good 
humor. 

The  next  day  the  travellers  came  to  where 
the  hills  closed  upon  the  river,  leaving  here 
and  there  intervals  of  undulating  meadow  land. 
The  river  was  sheeted  with  ice,  broken  into 
hills  at  long  intervals.  The  Digger  kept  on 
ahead  of  the  party,  crossing  and  recrossing  the 
river  in  pwirsuit  of  game,  until,  unluckily,  en- 
countering a  brother  Digger,  he  stole  off  with 
him,  without  the  ceremony  of  leave-taking. 

Being  now  left  to  themselves,  they  pro- 
ceeded until  they  came  to  some  Indian  huts, 
the  inhabitants  of  which  spoke  a  language 
totally  different  from  any  they  had  yet  heard. 
One,  however,  understood  the  Nez  Perc£  > 
guage,  and  through  him  they  made  inquiries 
as  to  their  route.  These  Indians  were  ex- 
tremely kind  and  honest,  and  furnished  them 
with  a  small  quantity  of  meat :  but  none  of 
them  could  be  induced  to  act  as  guides. 

Immediately  in  the  route  of  the  travellers  lay 
a  high  mountain,  which  they  ascended  with 
some  diflSculty.     The  prospect  from  the  sum- 


(Tbe  <3ral1^  'Rond 


mit  was  grand  but  disheartening.  Directly 
before  them  towered  the  loftiest  peaks  of  Ini- 
mahah,  rising  far  higher  than  the  elevated 
ground  on  which  they  stood ;  on  the  other 
hand,  they  were  enabled  to  scan  the  course  of 
the  river,  dashing  along  through  deep  chasms, 
between  rocks  and  precipices,  until  lost  in  a 
distant  wilderness  of  mountains,  which  closed 
the  savage  landscape. 

They  remained  for  a  long  time  contemplating, 
with  perplexed  and  anxious  eye,  this  wild  con- 
gregation of  mountain  barriers,  and  seeking  to 
discover  sonie  practicable  passage.  The  ap- 
proach of  evening  obliged  them  to  give  up  the 
task,  and  to  seek  some  camping  ground  for  the 
night.  Moving  briskly  forward,  and  plunging 
and  tossing  through  a  succession  of  deep  snow- 
drifts they  at  length  reached  a  valley  known 
among  trappers  as  the  **  Grand  Rond."  which 
they  found  entirely  free  from  snow. 

This  if  a  beautiful  and  very  fertile  valley, 
about  twenty  miles  long  and  five  or  six  broad  ; 
a  bright  cold  stream  called  the  Fourche  de  Glace. 
or  Ice  River,  runs  through  it.  Its  sheltered 
situation,  embosomed  in  mountains,  renders  it 
good  pasturing  ground  in  the  winter  time ; 
when  the  elk  come  down  to  it  in  great  num- 
bers, driven  out  of  the  mountains  by  the  snow. 
The  Indians  then  resort  to  it  to  hunt.     They 


!'  I 
t 
»' 
'< 

15; 
;.' . 

J'      ■'! 


mil 


I-! 


I. 


!.    . 


11;.- 


!':■:■  ! 


;  ■  If  *  I 

r  r  ^ 


::i 


■111? 


6  Xonncvil\c*9  BM^entnred 

likewise  come  to  it  in  the  summer  time  to  dig 
the  camash  root,  of  which  it  produces  immense 
quantities.  When  this  plant  is  in  blossom,  the 
whole  valley  is  tinted  by  its  blue  flowers,  and 
looks  like  the  ocean  when  overcast  by  a  clpud. 
After  passing  a  night  in  this  valley,  the 
travellers  in  the  morning  scaled  the  neigboring 
hills,  to  look  out  for  a  more  eligible  route  than 
that  upon  which  they  had  unluckily  fallen ; 
and,  after  much  reconnoitring,  determined  to 
make  their  way  once  more  to  the  river,  and  to 
travel  upon  the  ice  when  the  banks  should 
proved  impassable.  On  the  second  day  after 
this  determination,  they  were  again  upon  Snake 
River,  but,  contrary  to  their  expectations,  it 
was  nearly  free  from  ice.  A  narrow  ribbon  ran 
along  the  shore,  and  sometimes  there  was  a 
kind  of  bridge  across  the  stream,  formed  of  old 
ice  and  snow.  For  a  short  time  they  jogged 
along  the  bank  with  tolerable  facility,  but  at 
length  came  to  where  the  river  forced  its  way 
into  the  heart  of  the  mountains,  winding  be- 
tween tremendous  walls  of  basaltic  rock,  that 
rose  perpendicularly  from  the  water  edge^ 
frowning  in  bleak  and  gloomy  grandeur.  Here 
difficulties  of  all  kinds  beset  their  path.  The 
snow  was  from  two  to  three  feet  deep,  but  soft 
and  yielding,  so  that  the  horses  had  no  foot- 
hold,  but  kept  plunging    forward,   straining 


Dftncultfee  on  Snafie  IRivct 


way 
be- 
that 

edge, 

Here 
The 

tsoft 
foot- 

ining    ^ 


themselves  by  perpetual  efforts.  Sometimes 
the  crags  and  promontories  forced  them  iiix>n 
the  narrow  ribbon  of  ice  that  bordered  the 
shore ;  sometimes  they  had  to  scramble  over 
vast  masses  of  rock  which  had  tumbled  from 
the  impending  precipices  ;  sometimes  they  had 
to  cross  the  stream  upon  the  hazardous  bridges 
of  ice  and  snow,  sinking  to  the  knee  at  every 
step ;  sometimes  they  had  to  scale  slippery 
acclivities,  and  to  pass  along  narrow  cornices 
glazed  with  ice  and  sleet,  a  shouldering  wall 
of  rock  on  one  side,  a  yawning  precipice  on  the 
other,  where  a  single  false  step  would  have  been 
fatal.  In  a  lower  and  less  dangerous  pass  two  of 
their  horses  actually  fell  into  the  river,  one  was 
saved  with  much  difficulty,  but  the  boldness  of 
the  shore  prevented  their  rescuing  the  other, 
and  he  was  swept  away  by  the  rapid  current. 

In  this  way  they  struggled  forward,  manfully 
braving  difficulties  and  dangers,  until  they 
came  to  where  the  bed  of  the  river  narrowed  to 
a  mere  chasm,  wnth  perpendicular  walls  of 
rock  that  defied  all  further  progress.  Turning 
their  faces  now  to  the  mountain,  they  endeav- 
ored to  cross  directly  over  it ;  but,  after  clam- 
bering nearly  to  the  summit,  found  their  path 
closed  by  insurmountable  barriers. 

Nothing  now  remained  but  to  retrace  their 
steps.     To  descend  a  cragged  mountain,  how- 


8 


J8onncviUe'0  Bdpenturee 


W  '■ 

mi 
k 


I '    I 


ii', 


.^ 


J"  II 
I  if-    ; ! 


;ii 


I'    .   i 


I 


»!■■■! 

't  ■     : 

I! 

ii 

i! 


i-,i5': 


'I ' 

1 


n 


ever,  was  more  difficult  and  dangerous  than  to 
ascend  it.  They  had  to  lower  themselves, 
cautiously  and  slowly,  from  steep  to  steep, 
and,  while  they  managed  with  difficulty  to 
maintain  their  own  footing,  to  aid  their  horses 
by  holding  on  firmly  to  the  rope  halters,  as 
the  poor  animals  stumbled  among  slippery 
rocks,  or  slid  down  icy  declivities.  Thus, 
after  a  day  of  intense  cold,  and  severe  and 
incessant  toil,  amidst  the  wildest  scenery,  they 
managed,  about  nightfall,  to  reach  the  camp- 
ing ground  from  which  they  had  started  in  the 
mornirsg,  and  for  the  first  time  in  the  course 
of  their  rugged  and  perilous  expedition  felt 
their  hearts  quailing  under  their  multiplied 
hardships. 

A  hearty  supper,  a  tranquillizing  pipe,  and  a 
sound  night's  sleep,  put  them  all  in  better 
mood,  and  in  the  morning  they  held  a  consul- 
tation as  to  their  future  movements.  About 
four  miles  behind,  they  had  remarked  a  small 
ridge  of  mountains  approaching  closely  to  the 
river.  It  was  determined  to  scale  this  ridge, 
and  seek  a  passage  into  the  valley  which  must 
lie  beyond.  Should  they  fail  in  this,  but  one 
alternative  remained — to  kill  their  horses,  dry 
the  flesh  for  provisions,  make  boats  of  the 
hides,  and  in  these  commit  themselves  to  the 
stream — a  measure  hazardous  in  the  extreme. 


Zbe  JSluc  Aountaine  9 

A  short  inarch  brought  them  to  the  foot  of 
the  mountain,  but  its  steep  and  cragged  sides 
almost  discouraged  hope.  The  only  chance  of 
scaling  it  was  by  broken  masses  of  rock,  piled 
one  upon  another,  which  formed  a  succession 
of  crags,  reaching  nearly  to  the  summit.  Up 
these  they  wrought  their  way  with  indescrib- 
able difficulty  and  peril,  in  a  zigzag  course, 
climbing  from  rock  to  rock,  and  helping  their 
horses  up  after  them  ;  which  scrambled  among 
the  crags  like  mountain  goats ;  now  and  then 
dislodging  some  huge  stone,  which,  the  mo- 
ment they  had  left  it,  would  roll  down  the 
mountain,  crashing  and  rebounding  with  ter- 
rific din.  It  was  some  time  after  dark  before 
they  reached  a  kind  of  platform  on  the  summit 
of  the  mountain,  where  they  could  venture  to 
encamp.  The  winds,  which  swept  this  naked 
height,  had  whirled  all  the  snow  into  the  valley 
beneath,  so  that  the  horses  found  tolerable 
winter  pasturage  on  the  dry  grass  which  re- 
mained exposed.  The  travellers,  though  hun- 
gry in  the  extreme,  were  fain  to  make  a  very 
frugal  supper  ;  for  they  saw  their  journey  was 
likely  to  be  prolonged  much  beyond  the  antici- 
pated term. 

In  fact,  on  the  following  day  they  discerned 
that,  although  already  at  a  great  elevation, 
they  were  only  as  yet  upon  the  shoulder  of  the 


I'M 


lO 


JSonneville'e  Bdvcntures 


]\r 


'I     : 

H    ■ 
II' 


IP 


;ri-il 


r'^i^^l 


i^:. 


■ :  ( 


i^i  [ 


}^ 


mountain.  It  proved  to  be  a  great  sierra,  or 
ridge,  of  immense  height,  running  parallel  to 
the  course  of  the  river,  swelling  by  degrees  to 
lofty  peaks,  but  the  outline  gashed  by  deep 
and  precipitous  ravines.  This,  in  fact,  was  a 
part  of  the  chain  of  Blue  Mountains,  in  which 
the  first  adventurers  to  Astoria  experienced 
such  hardships. 

We  will  not  pretend  to  accompany  the  trav- 
ellers step  by  step  in  this  tremendous  mountain 
scramble,  into  which  they  had  unconsciously 
betrayed  themselves.  Day  after  day  did  their 
toil  continue;  peak  after  peak  had  they  to 
traverse,  struggling  with  difficulties  and  hard- 
ships known  only  to  the  mountain  trapper. 
As  their  course  lay  north,  they  had  to  ascend 
the  southern  faces  of  the  heights,  where  the 
sun  had  melted  the  snow,  so  as  to  render  the 
ascent  wet  and  slippery,  and  to  keep  both  men 
and  horses  continually  on  the  strain  ;  while  on 
the  northern  sides,  the  snow  lay  in  such  heavy 
masses  that  it  was  necessary  to  beat  a  track, 
down  which  the  horses  .might  be  led.  Every 
now  and  then,  also,  their  way  was  impeded  by 
tall  and  numerous  pines,  some  of  which  had 
fallen,  and  lay  in  every  direction. 

In  the  midst  of  these  toils  and  hardships 
their  provisions  gave  out.  For  three  days  they 
were  without  food,  and  so  reduced  that  they 


ii-iii 


Sutreriii00  trom  1>un0er 


ir 


could  scarcely  drag  themselves  along.  At 
length  one  of  the  mules,  being  about  to  give 
out  from  fatigue  and  famine,  they  hastened  to 
dispatch  him.  Husbanding  this  miserable 
supply,  they  dried  the  flesh,  and  for  three  days 
subsisted  upon  the  nutriment  extracted  from 
the  bones.  As  to  the  meat,  it  was  packed  and 
preserved  as  long  as  they  could  do  without  it, 
not  knowing  how  long  they  might  remain  be- 
wildered in  these  desolate  regions. 

One  of  the  men  was  now  dispatched  ahead 
to  reconnoitre  the  country,  and  to  discover,  if 
possible,  some  more  practicable  route.  In  the 
meantime,  the  rest  of  the  party  moved  on 
slowly.  After  a  lapse  of  three  days,  the  scout 
rejoined  them.  He  informed  them  thr*^  Snake 
River  ran  immediately  below  the  sierra  or 
mountainous  ridge  upon  which  they  were 
travelling;  that  it  was  free  from  precipices, 
and  was  at  no  great  distance  from  them  in  a 
direct  line  ;  but  that  it  would  be  impossible  for 
them  to  reach  it  without  making  a  weary  cir- 
cuit. Their  only  course  would  be  to  cross  the 
mountain  ridge  to  the  left. 

Up  this  mountain,  therefore,  the  weary 
travellers  directed  their  steps  ;  and  the  ascent, 
in  their  present  weak  and  exhausted  state,  was 
one  of  the  severest  parts  of  this  most  painful 
journey.      For  two  days  were  they  toiling 


13 


Xonncv\i\€*B  aDventuree 


'^'h'     i 


ii' 

j    ■ 

1  ; 
'If-    ' 

,'  ■ ' ' 

1 

! 
i' ' 

;•,. 

h 

1 

i- 

: 

.  II 


It^ 


m 

m 
i-ii 

His 


\ni 


slowly  from  cliff  to  cliff,  beating  at  every  step 
a  path  through  the  snow  for  their  faltering 
horses.  At  length  they  reached  the  summit, 
where  the  snow  was  blown  off;  but  in  de- 
scending on  the  opposite  side,  they  were  often 
plunging  through  deep  drifts,  piled  in  the 
hollows  and  ravines. 

Their  provisions  were  now  exhausted,  and 
they  and  their  horses  almost  ready  to  give  out 
with  fatigue  and  hunger,  when  one  afternoon, 
just  as  the  sun  was  sinking  behind  a  blue  line 
of  distant  mountain,  they  came  to  the  brow  of 
a  height  from  which  they  beheld  the  smooth 
valley  of  the  Immahah  stretched  out  in  smil- 
ing verdure  before  them. 

The  sight  inspired  almost  a  frenzy  of  de- 
light. Roused  to  new  ardor,  they  forgot  for  a 
time  their  fatigues,  and  hurried  down  the 
mountain,  dragging  their  jaded  horses  after 
them,  and  sometimes  compelling  them  to  slide 
a  distance  of  thirty  or  forty  feet  at  a  time.  At 
length  they  reached  the  banks  of  the  Immahah. 
The  young  grass  was  just  beginning  to  sprout, 
and  the  whole  valley  wore  an  aspect  of  soft- 
ness, verdure,  and  repose,  heightened  by  the 
contrast  of  the  frightful  region  from  which 
they  had  just  descended.  To  add  to  their  joy, 
they  observed  Indian  trails  along  the  margin 
of  the  stream,  and  other  signs  which  gave 


(Tbc  £xbaudtcd  (Traveller 


13 


Ihcm  reason  to  believe  that  there  was  an  en- 
campment of  the  Lower  Nez  Percys  in  the 
neighborhood,  as  it  was  within  the  accustomi^d 
range  of  that  pacific  and  hospitable  tribe. 

The  pxospect  of  a  supply  of  food  stimulated 
them  to  new  exertion ,  and  they  continued  on 
as  fast  as  the  enfeebled  state  of  themselves 
and  their  steeds  would  permit.  At  length,  one 
of  the  men,  more  exhausted  than  the  rest, 
threw  himself  upon  the  grass,  and  declared  he 
could  go  no  further.  It  was  in  vain  to  attempt 
to  rouse  him  ;  his  spirit  had  given  out,  and 
his  replies  only  showed  the  dogged  apathy  of 
despair.  His  companions,  therefore,  encamped 
on  the  spot,  kindled  a  blazing  fire,  and  searched 
about  for  roots  with  which  to  strengthen  and 
revive  him.  They  all  then  made  a  starveling  re- 
past ;  but  gathering  round  the  fire,  talked  over 
past  dangers  and  troubles,  soothed  themselves 
with  the  persuasion  that  all  were  now  at  an 
end,  and  went  to  sleep  with  the  comforting 
hope  that  the  morrow  would  bring  them  into 
plentiful  quarters. 


•  ninl 


f    ;' 


Cbaptet  If » 


m 


u.  i 


Progress  in  the  Valley— An  Indian  Cavalier — ^The 
Captain  Falls  into  a  Lethprgy — A  Nez  Perc6  Patri- 
arch— Hospitable  Treatment — The  Bald  Head — 
Bargaining — Value  of  an  Old  Plaid  Cloak —The 
Family  Horse — The  Cost  of  an  Indian  Present. 

A  TRANQUIL  night's  rest  had  sufficiently 
restored  the  broken-down  traveller  to 
enable  him  to  resume  his  wayfaring, 
and  all  hands  set  forward  on  the  Indian  trail. 
With  all  their  eagerness  to  arrive  within  reach 
of  succor,  such  was  their  feeble  and  emaciated 
condition,  that  they  advanced  but  slowly.  Nor 
is  it  a  matter  of  stu^rise  that  they  shotdd  al- 
most have  lost  heart  as  well  as  strength.  It 
was  now  (the  i6th  of  February)  fifty-three 
days  that  they  had  been  travelling  in  the  midst 
of  winter,  exposed  to  all  kinds  of  privations 
and  hardships ;  and  for  the  last  twenty  days 
they  had  been  entangled  in  the  wild  and  deso- 
late   labyrinths    of  the    snowy   mountains ; 

14 


Bn  f  tiDfan  Cai^alier 


15 


climbing  and  descending  icy  precipices,   and 
nearly  starved  with  cold  and  hunger. 

All  the  morning  they  continued  following 
the  Indian  trail  without  seeing  a  human  being, 
and  were  beginning  to  be  discouraged,  when, 
about  noon,  they  discovered  a  horseman  at  a 
distance.  He  was  coming  directly  towards 
them ;  but  on  discovering  them,  suddenly 
reined  up  his  steed,  came  to  a  halt,  and,  after 
reconnoitring  them  for  a  time  with  great  ear- 
nestness, seemed  about  to  make  a  cautious 
retreat.  They  eagerly  made  signs  of  peace, 
and  endeavored,  with  the  utmost  anxiety,  to 
induce  him  to  approach.  He  remained  for 
some  time  in  doubt ;  but  at  length,  having 
satisfied  himself  that  they  were  not  enemies, 
came  galloping  up  to  them.  He  was  a  fine, 
haughty-looking  savage,  fancifully  decorated, 
and  mounted  on  a  high-mettled  steed,  with 
gaudy  trappings  and  equipments.  It  was 
evident  that  he  was  a  warrior  of  some  conse- 
quence among  his  tribe.  His  whole  deport- 
ment had  something  in  it  of  barbaric  dignity  ; 
he  felt,  perhaps,  his  temporary  superiority  in 
personal  array,  and  in  the  spirit  of  his  steed, 
to  the  poor,  ragged,  travel-worn  trappers,  and 
their  haif-starved  horses.  Approaching  them 
with  an  air  of  protection,  he  gave  them  his 
hand,  and,  in  the  Nez  Perce  language,  invited 


n  . 


!'   , 


1 

Mil 

J 

1 

;  1   '■ 

i  '    i. : 

.'il 

■  ,  '■■!;' 

*!i"'lji 

i 

<      ll 

i    ■  ■ 

if!    - 

i     i"  '•, 

'  '!■' 

-   i"      ! 
l!       ! 

1  '    \ 

ii'^ 

■li'/ 

' ,   ; 

'i  '  - 

■  i- 

;.. 

I!:..  ' 

::!■ 

.'i 

i:    .' 
1  UUl  . 

■  ■  ,  M 

■    ;  i  ■ 

]■  {-/'  . 

l6 


JSonneville'd  BDventuree 


them  to  his  camp,  which  was  only  a  few  miles 
distant,  where  he  had  plenty  to  eat,  and  plenty 
of  horses,  and  would  cheerfully  share  his  good 
things  with  them. 

His  hospitable  invitation  was  joyfully  ac- 
cepted ;  he  lingered  but  a  moment,  to  give 
directions  by  which  they  might  find  his  camp, 
and  then,  wheeling  round,  and  giving  reins  to 
his  mettlesome  steed,  was  soon  out  of  sight. 
The  travellers  followed  with  gladdened  hearts, 
but  at  a  snail's  pace  ;  for  their  poor  horses 
could  scarcely  drag  one  leg  after  the  other. 
Captain  Bonneville,  however,  experienced  a 
sudden  and  singular  change  of  feeling.  Hith- 
erto, the  necessity  of  conducting  his  party, 
and  of  providing  against  every  emergency, 
had  kept  his  mind  upon  the  stretch,  and  his 
whole  system  braced  and  excited.  In  no  one 
instance  had  he  flagged  in  spirit,  or  felt  dis- 
posed to  succumb.  Now,  however,  that  all 
danger  was  over,  and  the  march  of  a  few  miles 
would  bring  them  to  repose  and  abundance, 
nis  energies  suddenly  deserted  him  ;  and  every 
faculty,  mental  and  physical,  was  totally 
relaxed.  He  had  not  proceeded  two  miles 
from  the  point  where  he  had  had  the  interview 
with  the  Nez  Perc6  chief,  when  he  threw  him- 
self upon  the  earth,  without  the  power  or  will 
to  move  a  muscle,  or  exert  a  thought,  and, 


B  F.e3  perc^  patriarcb 


17 


sank  almost  install  y  into  a  profound  and 
dreamless  sleep.  His  companions  again  came 
to  a  halt,  and  encamped  beside  him,  and  there 
they  passed  the  night. 

The  next  morning  Captain  Bonneville 
awakened  from  his  long  and  heavy  sleep, 
much  refreshed  ;  and  they  all  resumed  their 
creeping  progress.  They  had  not  been  long 
on  the  march,  when  eight  or  ten  of  the  Nez 
Perc^  tribe  came  galloping  to  meet  them,  lead- 
ing fresh  horses  to  bear  them  to  their  camp. 
Thus  gallantly  mounted,  they  felt  new  life 
infused  into  their  languid  frames,  and  dashing 
forward,  were  soon  at  the  lodges  of  the  Nez 
Percys.  Here  they  found  about  twelve  families 
living  together,  under  the  patriarchal  sway  of 
an  ancient  and  venerable  chief.  He  rece^'^ed 
them  with  the  hospitality  of  the  golden  age, 
and  with  something  of  the  same  kind  of  fare  ; 
for  while  he  opened  his  arms  to  make  them 
welcome,  the  only  repast  he  set  before  them 
consisted  of  roots.  They  could  have  wished 
for  something  more  hearty  and  substantial ; 
but,  for  want  of  better,  made  a  voracious  meal 
on  these  humble  viands.  The  repast  being 
over,  the  best  pipe  was  lighted  and  sent  round  ; 
and  this  was  a  most  welcome  luxury,  having 
lost  their  smoking  apparatus  twelve  days 
before,  among  the  mountains. 


VOL.  II.— a 


t$ 


JSonnct^Ulc'd  BOvcnturcd 


;-    i. 
\l  'I 


ii    i 


lAil     ,    <:       ( 


1'        ' 


H^l 


Hi:   'i  ; 


i!      -I 


nil 


.  I'  M  ■ 


'i-i 


While  they  were  thus  enjoying  themselves 
their  poor  horses  were  led  to  the  best  pastures 
in  the  neighborhood,  where  they  were  turned 
loose  to  revel  on  the  fresh  sprouting  grass ;  so 
that  they  had  better  fare  than  their  masters. 

Captain  Bonneville  soon  felt  himself  quite  at 
home  among  these  quiet,  inoffensive  people. 
His  long  residence  among  their  cousins,  the 
Upper  Nez  Percys,  had  made  him  conversant 
with  their  language,  modes  of  expression,  and 
all  their  habitudes.  He  soon  found,  too,  that 
he  was  well  known  among  them,  by  report,  at 
least,  from  the  constant  interchange  of  visits 
and  messages  between  the  two  branches  of  the 
tribe.  They  a  fc  first  addressed  him  by  his  name, 
giving  him  his  title  of  captain,  with  a  French 
accent ;  but  they  soon  gave  him  a  title  of  their 
own,  which,  as  usual  with  Indian  titles,  had  a 
peculiar  signification.  In  the  case  of  the  cap- 
tain, it  had  somewhat  of  a  whimsical  origin. 

As  he  sat  chatting  and  smoking  in  the  midst 
of  them,  he  would  occasionally  take  off  his 
cap.  Whenever  he  did  so,  there  was  a  sensa- 
tion in  the  surrounding  circle.  The  Indians 
would  half  rise  fi-om  their  recumbent  posture, 
and  gaze  upon  his  uncovered  head,  with  their 
usual  exclamation  of  astonishment.  The 
worthy  captain  was  completely  bald,  a  phe- 
nomenon very  surprising  in  their  eyes.     They 


tTbc  JSald  t»cad 


«9 


were  at  a  loss  to  know  whether  he  hnd  been 
scalped  in  battle,  or  enjoyed  a  natural  immunity 
from  that  belligerent  infliction.  In  a  little 
while  he  became  known  among  them  by  an 
Indian  name,  signifying  "  the  bald  chief." 
"  A  soubriquet, "  observes  the  captain,  "for 
which  I  can  find  no  parallel  in  history  since 
the  days  of  '  Charles  the  Bald.'  " 

Although  the  travellers  had  banqueted  on 
roots,  and  been  regaled  with  tobacco  smoke, 
yet  their  stomachs  craved  more  generous  fare. 
In  approaching  the  lodges  of  the  Nez  Percys, 
they  had  indulged  in  fond  anticipations  of 
venison  and  dried  salmon  ;  and  dreams  of  the 
kind  still  haunted  their  imaginations,  and 
could  not  be  conjured  down.  The  keen  ap- 
petites of  mountain  trappers,  quickened  by  a 
fortnight's  fasting  at  length  got  the  better  of 
all  scruples  of  pride,  and  they  fairly  begged 
some  fish  or  flesh  from  the  hospitable  savages. 
The  latter,  however,  were  slow  to  break  in 
upon  their  winter  store,  which  was  very 
limited  ;  but  were  ready  to  furnish  roots  in 
abundance,  which  they  pronounced  excellent 
food.  At  length,  Captain  Bonneville  thought 
of  a  means  of  attaining  the  much  coveted 
gratification. 

He  had  about  him,  he  says,  a  trusty  plaid, 
an  old  and  valued  travelling  companion  and 


W   ■  t 

V'n.    ,  !  ■. 
ii  ■ 
it?.,- 


hi    :•  ! 


i.:!K 


90 


JSoniteviHc'0  Bdventure0 


comforter  upon  which  the  rains  had  descended 
and  the  snows  and  winds  beaten,  without  fur- 
ther eflfect  than  somewhat  to  tarnish  its  primi- 
tive lustre.  This  coat  of  many  colors  had 
excited  the  admiration,  and  inflamed  the 
covetousness  of  both  warriors  and  squaws  to 
an  extravagant  degree.  An  idea  now  occurred 
to  Captain  Bonneville,  to  convert  this  rainbow 
garment  into  the  savory  viands  so  much  desired. 
There  was  a  momentary  struggle  in  his  mind 
between  old  associations  and  projected  indul- 
gence ;  and  his  decision  in  favor  of  the  latter 
was  made,  he  says,  with  a  greater  promptness, 
perhaps,  than  true  taste  and  sentiment  might 
have  required.  In  a  few  moments,  his  plaid 
cloak  was  cut  into  numerous  strips.  **  Of 
these,"  continues  he,  "with  the  newly  devel- 
oped talent  of  a. man-milliner,  I  speedily  con- 
structed turbans  d  la  Turque^  and  fanciful 
head-gears  of  divers  conformations.  These, 
judiciously  distributed  among  such  of  the 
womenkind  as  seemed  of  most  consequence 
and  interest  in  the  eyes  of  the  patres  conscripti, 
brought  us,  in  a  little  while,  abundance  of 
dried  salmon  and  deers'  hearts  ;  on  which  we 
made  a  sumptuous  supper.  Another,  and  a 
more  satisfactory  smoke,  succeeded  this  repast, 
and  sweet  slumbers  answering  the  peaceful 
invocation  of  our  pipes,  wrapped  us  in  that 


i;::f 


M 


Jibe  ^itt'tjoiec 


delicious  rest  which  is  only  won  by  toil  and 
travail." 

As  to  Captain  Bonneville,  he  slept  in  the 
lodge  of  the  venerable  patriarch,  who  had  evi- 
dently conceived  a  most  disinterested  affection 
for  him,  as  was  shown  on  the  following  morn- 
ing. The  travellers,  invigorated  by  a  good 
supper  and  "  fresh  from  the  bath  of  repose," 
were  about  to  resume  their  journey,  when  this 
affectionate  old  chief  took  the  captain  aside, 
to  let  him  know  how  much  he  loved  him. 
As  a  proof  of  his  regard,  he  had  determined 
to  give  him  a  fine  horse,  which  would  go  further 
than  words,  and  put  his  good-will  beyond  all 
question.  So  saying,  he  made  a  signal,  and 
forthwith  a  beautiful  young  horse  of  a  brown 
color,  was  led,  prancing  and  snorting,  to  the 
place.  Captain  Bonneville  was  suitably  affected 
by  this  mark  of  friendship  ;  but  his  experience 
in  what  is  proverbially  called  **  Indian  giving, " 
made  him  aware  that  a  parting  pledge  was 
necessary  on  his  own  part,  to  prove  that  his 
friendship  was  reciprocated.  He  accordingly 
placed  a  handsome  rifle  in  the  hands  of  the 
venerable  chief,  whose  benevolent  heart  was 
evidently  touched  and  gratified  by  this  outward 
and  visible  sign  of  amity. 

Having  now,  as  he  thought,  balanced  this 
little  account  of  friendship,  the  captain  was 


'M 


ll 


23 


JSotmevtIIe'0  B^vcntured 


Pf'i 


W-. 


\  J 


!i       'I 


is,       n 


I 

1   11  I 


!'» 


.1  \\ 


w 


i.jirf 


( , 


ip: 


^t 


about  to  shift  his  saddle  to  this  noble  gifl-horse, 
when  the  affectionate  patriarch  plucked  him 
by  the  sleeve,  and  introduced  to  him  a  whim- 
pering, whining,  leathern-skinned  old  squaw, 
that  might  have  passed  for  an  Egyptian  mum- 
my without  drying.  "This,"  said  he,  "is 
my  wife  :  she  is  a  good  wife — I  love  her  very 
much.  She  loves  the  horse —  she  loves  him  a 
great  deal — she  will  cry  very  much  at  losing 
him.  I  do  not  know  how  I  shall  comfort  her — 
and  that  makes  my  heart  very  sore." 

What  could  the  worthy  captain  do,  to  con- 
sole the  tender-hearted  old  squaw,  and,  per- 
ad venture,  to  save  the  venerable  patriarch  from 
a  curtain  lecture  ?  He  bethou£;ht  himself  of  a 
pair  of  ear-bobs  :  it  was  true,  the  patriarch's 
better-half  was  of  an  age  and  appearance  that 
seemed  to  put  personal  vanity  out  of  the  ques- 
tion, but  when  is  personal  vanity  extinct  ? 
The  moment  he  produced  the  glittering  ear- 
bobs,  the  whimpering  and  whining  of  the 
sempiternal  beldame  was  at  an  end.  She 
eagerly  placed  the  precious  baubles  in  her  ears, 
and,  though  as  ugly  as  the  Witch  of  Endor, 
went  oflf  with  a  sideling  gait,  and  coquettish 
air,  as  though  she  had  been  a  perfect  Semiramis. 

The  captain  had  now  saddled  his  newly 
acquired  steed,  and  his  foot  was  in  the  stirrup, 
when  the  affectionate  patriarch  again  stepped 


Crk  »^:  ot  an  Indian  present 


2.1 


'n 


forward,  and  presented  to  him  a  young  Pierced- 
Nose,  who  had  a  peculiarly  sulky  look. 
"  This,"  said  the  venerable  chief,  "  is  my  son  ; 
he  is  very  good— a  great  horseman — he  always 
took  care  of  this  very  fine  horse — he  brought 
him  up  from  a  colt,  and  made  him  what  he 
is.  He  is  very  fond  of  this  fine  horse — he 
loves  him  like  a  brother — his  heart  will  be 
very  heavy  when  this  fine  horse  leaves  the 
camp." 

What  could  the  captain  do  to  reward  the 
youthful  hope  of  this  venerable  pair,  and  com- 
fort him  for  the  loss  of  his  foster  brother,  the 
horse  ?  He  bethought  him  of  a  hatchet,  which 
might  be  spared  from  his  slender  stores.  No 
sooner  did  he  place  the  implement  in  the 
hands  of  the  young  hopeful,  than  his  counte- 
nance brightened  up,  and  he  went  oflf  rejoicing 
in  his  hatchet,  to  the  full  as  much  as  did  his 
respectable  mother  in  her  ear-bobs. 

The  captain  was  now  in  the  saddle,  and 
about  to  Sttart,  when  the  affectionate  old  patri- 
arch stepped  forward,  for  the  third  time,  and, 
while  he  laid  one  hand  gently  on  the  mane  of 
the  horse,  held  up  the  rifle  in  the  other.  *  'This 
rifle,"  said  he,  **  shall  be  my  great  medicine. 
I  will  hug  it  to  my  heart — I  will  always  love 
it,  for  the  sake  of  my  good  friend,  the  bald- 
headed  chief.     But  a  rifle,  by  itself,  is  dumb — 


Hi/  'i; 


■!         I 


VI  '\ 


1;! 


r!;0 

If 


li    ' 


|:,;. 


24 


JSonncvillc'd  BOvcnturce 


I  cannot  make  it  speak.  If  I  had  a  little  pow> 
der  and  ball,  I  would  take  it  out  with  me,  and 
would  now  and  then  shoot  a  deer  ;  and  when 
I  brought  the  meat  home  to  my  hungry  family, 
I  would  say — This  was  killed  by  the  rifle  of 
my  friend,  the  bald-headed  chief,  to  whom  I 
gave  that  very  fine  horse." 

There  was  no  resisting  this  appeal :  the 
captain  forthwith  furnished  the  coveted  supply 
of  powder  and  ball ;  but  at  the  same  time  put 
spurs  to  his  very  fine  gift-horse,  and  the  first 
trial  of  his  speed  was  to  get  out  of  all  further 
manifestation  of  friendship  on  the  part  of  the 
affectionate  old  patriarch  and  his  insinuating 
family. 


m 


Cbaptet  Iff* 


Nez  Perc^  Camp — A  Chief  with  a  Hard  Name — The 
Big  Hearts  of  the  Bast— Hospitable  Treatment— 
The  Indian  Guides — Mysterious  Councils — The  Lo- 
quacious Chief— Indian  Tomb — Grand  Indian  Re- 
ception— An  Indian  Feast — Town  Criers — Honesty 
of  the  Nez  Percys— The  Captain's  Attempt  at 
Healing. 

FOLI^OWING  the  course  of  the  Immahah, 
Captain  Bonneville  and  his  three  com- 
panions soon  reached  the  vicinity  of 
Snake  River.  Their  route  now  lay  over  a  succes- 
sion of  steep  and  isolated  hills,  with  profound 
valleys.  On  the  second  day  after  taking  leave 
of  the  aflfectionate  old  patriarch,  as  they  were 
descending  into  one  of  those  deep  and  abrupt 
intervals,  they  descried  a  smoke,  and  shortly 
afterwards  came  in  sight  of  a  small  encamp- 
ment of  Nez  Percys. 

The  Indians,  when  they  ascertained  that  it 
was  a  party  of  white  men  approaching,  greeted 
them  with  a  salute  of  fire-arms,  and  invited 


J9oimevlUe'0  BDveiituree 


I" 

U:  ,'.  i 


ill! 


them  to  encnmp.  This  band  was  likewise 
under  the  sway  of  a  venerable  chief  named 
Yo-mus-ro-y-e-cut ;  a  name  which  we  shall  be 
careful  not  to  inflict  oftener  than  is  necessary 
upon  the  reader.  This  ancient  and  hard- 
named  chieftain  welcomed  Captain  Bonneville 
to  his  camp  with  the  same  hospitality  and 
loving-kindness  that  he  had  experienced  from 
his  predecessors.  He  told  the  captain  thai  he 
had  often  heard  of  the  Americans  and  their 
generous  deeds,  and  that  his  buffalo  brethren 
(the  Upper  Nez  Perces)  had  always  spoken  of 
them  as  the  Big-hearted  whites  of  the  East, 
the  very  good  friends  of  the  Nez  Percds.  • 

Captain  Bonneville  felt  somewhat  uneasy 
under  the  responsibility  of  this  magnanimous 
but  costly  appellation ;  and  began  to  fear  he 
might  be  involved  in  a  second  interchange  of 
pledges  of  friendship.  He  hastened,  therefore, 
to  let  the  old  chief  know  his  poverty-stricken 
state,  and  how  little  there  was  to  be  expected 
from  him. 

He  h. formed  him  that  he  and  his  comrades 
had  long  resided  among  the  Upper  Nez  Percds, 
and  loved  them  so  much  that  they  had  throvvii 
their  arms  around  them,  and  now  held  th  '  ? 
close  to  their  hearts.  That  he  had  received 
such  good  accounts  from  the  Upper  Nez  Percds 
of  their  cousins  the  I^ower  Ne:5  Perpds,  th^it 


t>0dpltablc  Crcatmcnt 


[?wise 
amed 
all  be 
jssary 
harcl- 
leviUc 
y  and 
I  from 
iial  he 
I  their 
ethren 
ken  of 
East, 

uneasy 

iiimous 

fear  he 

nge  of 

irefore, 

ricken 

pected 

irades 
>erc6s, 
thro\v  ii 
th  /m 
iceived 
Percys 
js,  th^it 


he  had  become  desirous  of  knowing  them  as 
friends  and  brothers.  That  hi  and  his  C'>m- 
panions  had  accordingly  loaded  a  '  .ide  \Mth 
presents  and  set  off  for  the  country  of  tlio 
Lower  Nez  Percys ;  but,  unfortunately,  had 
been  entrapped  for  many  days  among  he 
snowy  moinitains;  and  that  the  mule  with  all 
the  pre-*:  ;  s  '"\d  fallen  into  Snake  River,  and 
been  ..wtpt  away  by  the  rapid  current.  That 
irit.tead,  therefore,  of  arriving  among  their 
friends,  the  Nez  Percys,  with  light  hearts  and 
full  hands,  they  came  naked,  hungry,  and 
broken  down ;  and  instead  of  making  them 
presents,  must  depend  upon  them  even  for 
food.  "But,"  concluded  he,  "we  are  going 
to  the  white  men's  fort  on  the  Wallah- Wallah, 
and  will  soon  return  ;  and  then  we  will  meet 
our  Nez  Perc6  friends  like  the  true  Big  Hearts 
of  the  East.'* 

Whether  the  hint  thrown  out  in  the  latter 
part  of  the  speech  had  any  effect,  or  whether 
the  old  chief  acted  from  the  hospitable  feelings 
which,  according  to  the  captain,  are  really  in- 
herent in  the  Nez  Perce  tribe,  he  certainly 
showed  iiO  disposition  to  relax  his  friendship 
on  learning  the  destitute  circumstances  of  his 
guests.  On  the  contrary,  he  urged  the  captain 
to  remain  with  them  until  the  following  day, 
when  he  would  accompany  him  on  his  journey, 


28 


Xonncvii{c*6  adventured 


H4 


m 


and  make  him  acquainted  with  all  his  people. 
In  the  meantime,  he  would  have  a  colt  killed 
and  cut  up  for  travelling  provisions.  This,  he 
carefully  explained,  was  intended  not  as  an 
article  of  traffic,  but  as  a  gift  ;  for  he  saw  that 
his  guests  were  hungry  and  in  need  of  food. 

Captain  Bon.eville  gladly  assented  to  his 
hospitable  arrangement.  The  carcass  of  the 
colt  was  forthcoming  in  due  season,  but  the 
captain  insisted  that  one  half  of  it  should  be 
set  apart  for  the  use  of  the  chieftain's  family. 

At  an  early  hour  the  following  morning,  the 
little  party  resumed  their  journey,  accompanied 
by  the  old  chief  and  an  Indian  guide.  Their 
route  was  over  a  rugged  and  broken  country, 
where  the  hills  were  slippery  with  ice  and 
snow.  Their  horses,  too,  were  so  weak  and 
jaded  that  they  could  scarcely  climb  the  steep 
ascents,  or  maintain  their  foothold  on  the 
frozen  declivities.  Throughout  the  whole  of 
the  journey,  the  old  chief  and  the  guide  were 
unremitting  in  their  good  offices,  and  contin- 
ually on  the  alert  to  select  the  best  roads,  and 
assist  them  through  all  difficulties.  Indeed, 
the  captain  and  his  comrades  had  to  be  de- 
pendent on  their  Indian  friends  for  almost 
eveiything,  for  they  had  lost  their  tobacco  and 
pipes,  those  great  comforts  of  the  trapper,  and 
had  but  a  few  charges  of  powder  left,  which  it 


yiSi?0terioud  Councils 


20 


:,the 


was  necessary  to  husband  for  the  purpose  of 
lighting  their  fires. 

In  the  course  of  the  day  the  old  chief  had 
several  private  consultations  with  the  guide, 
and  showed  evident  signs  of  being  occupied 
with  some  mysterious  matter  of  mighty  im- 
port. What  it  was,  Captain  Bonneville  could 
not  fathom,  nor  did  he  make  much  effort  to  do 
so.  From  some  casual  sentences  that  he  over- 
heard, he  perceived  that  it  was  something 
from  which  the  old  man  promised  himself 
much  satisfaction,  and  to  which  he  attached  a 
little  vainglory,  but  which  he  wished  to  keep 
a  secret ;  so  he  suffered  him  to  spin  out  his 
petty  plans  'jnmolested. 

In  the  evening  when  they  encamped,  the 
old  chief  and  his  privy  counsellor,  the  guide, 
had  another  mysterious  colloquy,  after  which 
the  guide  mounted  his  horse  and  departed  on 
some  secret  mission,  while  the  chief  resumed 
his  seat  at  the  fire,  and  sat  humming  to  him- 
self in  a  pleasing  but  mystic  reverie. 

The  next  morning,  the  travellers  descended 
into  the  valley  of  the  Way-lee- way,  a  consider- 
able tributary  of  Snake  River.  Here  they  met 
the  guide  returning  from  his  secret  errand. 
Another  private  conference  was  held  between 
him  and  the  old  managing  chief,  who  now 
seemed  more  inflated  than  ever  with  mystery, 


20 


Xonnevnic*e  Bdvcnturcs 


i 


and  self-importance.  Numerous  fresh  trails 
and  various  other  .signs,  persuaded  Captain 
Bonneville  that  there  must  be  a  considerable 
village  of  Nez  Percys  in  the  neighborhood ; 
but  as  his  worthy  companion,  the  old  chief, 
said  nothing  on  the  subject,  and  as  it  appeared 
to  be  in  some  way  connected  with  his  secret 
operations,  he  asked  no  questions,  but  patiently 
awaited  the  development  of  his  mystery. 

As  they  journeyed  on,  they  came  to  where 
two  or  three  Indians  were  bathing  in  a  small 
stream.  The  good  old  chief  immediately  came 
to  a  halt,  and  had  a  long  conversation  with  them, 
in  the  course  of  which  he  repeated  to  them  the 
whole  history  which  Captain  Bonneville  had  re- 
lated to  him.  In  fact,  he  seems  to  have  been  a 
very  sociable,  communicative  old  man  ;  by  no 
means  afflicted  with  that  taciturnity  generally 
charged  upon  the  Indians.  On  the  contrary, 
he  was  fond  of  long  talks  and  long  smokings, 
and  evidently  was  proud  of  his  new  friend,  the 
bald-headed  chief,  and  took  a  pleasure  in 
sounding  his  praises,  and  setting  forth  the 
power  and  glory  of  the  Big  Hearts  of  the  Bast. 

Having  disburdened  himself  of  everything 
he  had  to  relate  to  his  bathing  friends,  he  left 
them  to  their  aquatic  disports,  and  proceeded 
onward  with  the  captain  and  his  companions. 
As  they   approached  the  Way -lee- way,  how- 


a  TlOlarrior'd  <3rare 


31 


rails 

ptain 

»rable 

lood  ; 

chief, 

>eared 

secret 

iently 


ever,  the  comniunicative  old  chief  met  with 
another  and  a  very  different  occasion  to  exert 
his  colloquial  powers.  On  the  banks  of  the 
river  stood  an  isolated  mound  covered  with 
grass.  He  pointed  to  it  with  some  emotitm. 
"The big  heart  and  the  strong  arm,"  said  he, 
*'  lie  buried  beneath  that  sod." 

It  was,  in  fact,  the  grave  of  one  of  his  friends, 
a  chosen  warrior  of  the  tribe,  who  had  been 
slain  on  this  spot  when  in  pursuit  of  a  war 
party  of  Shoshokoes,  who  had  stolen  the 
horses  of  the  village.  The  enemj^  bore  off  his 
scalp  as  a  trophy ;  but  his  friends  found 
his  body  in  this  lonely  place,  and  com- 
mitted it  to  the  earth  with  ceremonials  char- 
acteristic of  their  pious  and  reverential  feelings. 
They  gathered  round  the  grave  and  mourned  ; 
the  warriors  were  silent  in  their  grief;  but 
the  women  and  children  bewailed  their  loss 
with  loud  lamentations.  * '  For  three  days, '  * 
said  the  old  man,  "we  performed  the  solemn 
dances  for  the  dead,  and  prayed  the  Great 
Spirit  that  our  brother  might  be  happy  in  the 
land  of  brave  warriors  and  hunters.  Then  we 
killed  at  his  grave  fifteen  of  our  best  and 
strongest  horses,  to  serve  him  when  he  should 
arrive  at  the  happy  hunting  ground  ;  and 
having  done  all  this,  we  returned  sorrowfully 
to  our  homes." 


32 


Xonncviilc'6  Bdvcnturca 


;  • 


B. 


f  : 

'l.i        I 


if! 


While  the  chief  was  still  talking,  an  Indian 
scout  came  galloping  up,  and,  presenting  him 
with  a  powder-horn,  wheeled  round,  and  was 
speedily  out  of  sight.  The  eyes  of  the  old 
chief  now  brightened,  and  all  his  self-impor- 
tance returned.  His  petty  mystery  was  about 
to  explode.  Turning  to  Captain  Bonneville, 
he  pointed  to  a  hill  hard  by,  and  informed  him 
that  behind  it  was  a  village  governed  by  a 
little  chief,  whom  he  had  notified  of  the  ap- 
proach of  the  b^ld-headed  chief,  and  a  party 
of  the  Big  Hearts  of  the  East,  and  that  he  was 
prepared  to  receive  them  in  becoming  style. 
As,  among  other  ceremonials,  he  intended  to 
salute  them  with  a  discharge  of  fire-arms,  he 
had  sent  the  horn  of  gunpowder  that  they 
might  return  the  salute  in  a  manner  corre- 
spondent to  his  dignity. 

They  now  proceeded  on  until  they  doubled 
the  point  of  the  hill,  when  the  whole  popula- 
tion of  the  village  broke  upon  their  view,  drawn 
out  in  the  most  imposing  style,  and  arrayed  in 
all  their  finery.  The  efiect  of  the  whole  was 
wild  and  fantastic,  yet  singularly  striking.  In 
the  front  rank  were  the  chiefs  and  principal 
warriors,  glaringly  painted  and  decorated ; 
behind  them  were  arranged  the  rest  of  the 
people,  men,  women,  and  children. 

Captain  Bonneville  and  his  party  advanced 


<3rand  f  nMan  Itcception 


33 


slowly,  exchanging  salutes  of  fire-arms.  When 
arrived  within  a  respectful  distance,  they  dis- 
mounted. The  chiefs  then  came  forward  suc- 
cessively, according  to  their  respective  charac- 
ters and  consequence,  to  offer  the  hand  of 
good-fellowship  ;  each  filing  off  when  he  had 
shaken  hands,  to  make  way  for  his  successor. 
Those  in  the  next  rank  followed  in  the  same 
order,  and  so  on,  until  all  had  given  the  pledge 
of  fiiendship.  During  all  this  time,  the  chief, 
according  to  custom,  took  his  stand  beside  the 
guests.  If  any  of  his  people  advanced  whom 
he  judged  unworthy  of  the  friendship  or  con- 
fidence of  the  white  men,  he  motioned  them 
off  by  a  wave  of  the  hand,  and  they  would 
submissively  walk  away.  When  Captain  Bon- 
neville turned  upon  him  an  inquiring  look,  he 
would  observe,  **  he  was  a  bad  man,"  or  some- 
thing quite  as  concise,  and  there  was  an  end 
of  the  matter. 

^  Mats,  poles,  and  other  materials  were  now 
brought,  and  a  comfortable  lodge  was  scon 
erected  for  the  strangers,  where  they  were 
kept  constantly  supplied  with  wood  and  water, 
and  other  necessaries  ;  and  all  their  effects 
were  placed  in  safe  keeping.  Their  horses, 
too,  were  unsaddled,  and  turned  loose  to  graze, 
and  a  guard  set  to  keep  watch  upon  them. 
All  this  being  adjusted,  they  were  conducted 


VOL.  II. 


34 


JBonncvilU'd  Bdvcnturcd 


i.,-ii 


to  the  main  building  or  council  house  of  the 
village,  where  an  ample  repast,  or  rather 
banquet,  was  spread,  "which  seemed  to  realize 
all  the  gastronomical  dreams  that  had  tantalized 
them  during  their  long  starvation  ;  for  here 
they  beheld  not  merely  fish  and  roots  in 
abundance,  but  the  flesh  of  deer  and  elk,  and 
the  choicest  pieces  of  buffalo  meat.  It  is  need- 
less to  say  how  vigorously  they  acquitted 
themselves  on  this  occasion,  and  how  unneces- 
sary it  was  for  their  hosts  to  practise  the  usual 
cramming  principle  of  Indian  hospitality. 

When  the  repast  was  over,  a  long  talk  en- 
sued. The  chief  showed  the  same  curiosity 
evinced  by  his  tribe  geneially,  to  obtain  in- 
formation concerning  the  United  States,  of 
which  they  knew  little  but  what  they  derived 
through  their  cousins,  the  Upper  Nez  Perces  ; 
as  their  traffic  is  almost  exclusively  with  the 
British  traders  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company. 
Captain  Bonneville  did  his  best  to  set  forth  the 
merits  of  his  nation,  and  the  importance  of 
their  friendship  to  the  red  men,  in  which  he 
was  ably  seconded  by  his  worthy  friend,  the 
old  chief  with  the  hard  name,  who  did  all  that 
he  could  to  glorify  the  Big  Hearts  of  the  East. 

The  chief,  and  all  present,  listened  with  pro- 
found attention,  and  evidently  with  great  in- 
terest;  nor  were  the  important  facts  thus  set 


tsnalfiind  l^ewdpapcrd 


35 


forth,  confined  to  the  audience  in  the  lodge  ; 
for  sentence  after  sentence  was  loudly  repeated 
by  a  crier  for  the  benefit  of  the  whole  village. 

This  custom  of  promulgating  everything  by 
criers,  is  not  confined  to  the  Nez  Percys,  but 
prevails  among  many  other  tribes.  It  has  its 
advantage  where  there  are  no  gazettes  to  pub- 
lish the  news  of  the  day,  or  to  report  the  pro- 
ceedings of  important  meetings.  And  in  fact, 
reports  of  this  kind,  viva  voce,  made  in  the 
hearing  of  all  parties,  and  liable  to  be  contra- 
dicted or  corrected  on  the  spot,  are  more  likely 
to  convey  accurate  information  to  the  public 
mind,  than  those  circulated  through  the  press. 
The  office  of  crier  is  generally  filled  by  some 
old  man,  who  is  good  for  little  else.  A  village 
has  generally  several  of  these  walking  news- 
papers, as  they  are  termed  by  the  whites,  who 
go  about  proclaiming  the  news  of  the  day, 
giving  notice  of  public  councils,  expeditions, 
dances,  feasts,  and  other  ceremonials,  and  ad- 
vertising anything  lost.  While  Captain  Bon- 
neville remained  among  the  Nez  Percys,  if  a 
glove,  handkerchief,  cr  anything  of  similar 
value,  was  lost  or  mislaid,  it  was  carried  by  the 
finder  to  the  lodge  of  the  chief,  and  proclama- 
tion was  made  by  one  of  their  criers,  fcr  the 
owner  to  come  and  claim  his  property. 

How  difficult  it  is  to  get  at  the  true  charac- 


36 


3Bonnevt[(c'0  B^venturc^ 


m 


1  ii 


M 


ter  of  these  wandering  tribes  of  the  wilderness  1 
In  a  recent  work,  we  have  had  to  speak  of 
this  tribe  of  Indians  from  the  experience  of 
other  traders  who  had  casually  been  among 
them,  and  who  represented  them  as  selfish, 
inhospitable,  exorbitant  in  their  dealings  and 
much  addicted  to  thieving  *  :  Captain  Bonne- 
ville, on  the  contrary,  who  resided  much  among 
them,  and  had  repeated  opportunities  of  ascer- 
taining their  real  character,  invariably  speaks 
of  them  as  kind  and  hospitable,  scrupulously 
honest,  and  remarkable,  above  all  other  Indians 
that  he  had  met  with,  for  a  strong  feeling  of 
religion.  In  fac,  so  enthusiastic  is  he  in  their 
praise,  that  he  pronounces  them,  all  ignorant 
and  barbarous  as  they  are  by  their  condition, 
one  of  the  purest-hearted  people  on  the  face 
of  the  earth. 

Some  cures  which  Captain  Bonneville  had 
effected  in  simple  cases,  among  the  Upper  Nez 
Perces,  had  reached  the  ears  of  their  cousins 
here,  and  gained  for  him  the  reputation  of  a 
great  medicine  man.  He  had  not  been  long 
in  the  village,  therefore,  before  his  lodge  began 
to  be  the  resort  of  the  sick  and  the  infirm. 
The  captain  felt  the  value  of  the  reputation 
thus  accidentally  and  cheaply  acquired,  and 
endeavored  to  sustain  it.  As  he  had  arrived 
*  Vide  Astoria^  chap.  Hi. 


Ebe  Captain  a  Aedictne  Aaii 


37 


at  that  age  when  every  man  is,  experimentally, 
something  of  a  physician,  he  was  enabled  to 
turn  to  advantage  the  little  knowledge  in  the 
healing  art  which  he  had  casually  picked  up  ; 
and  was  sufficiently  successful  in  two  or  three 
cases,  to  convince  the  simple  Indians  that  re- 
port had  not  exaggerated  his  medical  talents. 
The  only  patient  that  effectually  baffled  his 
skill,  or  rather  discouraged  any  attempt  at 
relief,  was  an  antiquated  squaw  with  a  church- 
yard cough,  and  one  leg  in  the  grave  ;  it  being 
shrunk  and  rendered  useless  by  a  rheumatic 
affection.  This  was  a  case  beyond  his  mark  ; 
however,  he  comforted  the  old  woman  with  a 
promise  that  he  would  endeavor  to  procure 
something  to  relieve  her,  at  the  fort  on  the 
Wallah- Wallah,  and  would  bring  it  on  his 
return  ;  with  which  assurance  her  husband 
was  so  well  satisfied,  that  he  presented  the 
captain  with  a  colt,  to  be  killed  as  provisions 
for  the  journey :  a  medical  fee  \»rhich  was 
thankfully  accepted. 

While  among  these  Indians,  Captain  Bonne- 
ville unexpectedly  found  an  owner  for  the 
horse  which  he  had  purchased  from  a  Root 
Digger  at  the  Big  Wyer.  The  Indian"  satis- 
factorily proved  that  the  horse  had  been  stolen 
from  him  some  time  previous,  by  some  un- 
known thief.     "  However,"  said  the  consider- 


It>; 


38 


J8onncvUIe'0  Bdrcnturcd 


ate  savage,  "you  got  him  in  fair  trade — you 
are  more  in  want  of  horses  than  I  am :  keep 
him ;  he  is  yours — he  is  a  good  horse ;  use 
him  well." 

Thus,  in  the  continual  experience  of  acts  of 
kindness  and  generosity,  which  his  destitute 
condition  did  not  allow  him  to  reciprocate, 
Captain  Bonneville  passed  some  short  time 
among  these  good  people,  more  and  more  im- 
pressed with  the  general  excellence  of  their 
character. 


;  I' 


Cbapter  W. 


Scenery  of  the  Way-lee-way— A  Substitute  for  To- 
bacco— Sublime  Scenery  of  Snake  River — The  Gar- 
rulous old  Chief  and  his  Cousin — A  Nez  Perc^ 
,  Meeting— A  Stolen  Skin — The  Scapegoat  Dog— 
\  Mysterious  Conferences  —  The  Little  Chief  —  His 
Hospitality — The  Captain's  Account  of  the  United 
States— His  Healing  Skill. 

ON  resuming  his  journey,  Captain  Bonne- 
ville was  conducted  by  the  same  Nez 
Perc6  guide,  whose  knowledge  of  the 
country  was  important  in  choosing  the  routes 
and  resting  places.  He  also  continued  to  be 
accompanied  by  the  worthy  old  chief  with  the 
hard  name,  who  seemed  bent  upon  doing  the 
honors  of  the  country,  and  introducing  him  to 
every  branch  of  his  tribe.  The  Way-lee-way, 
down  the  banks  of  which  Captain  Bonneville 
and  his  companions  were  now  travelling,  is  a 
considerable  stream  winding  through  a  succes- 
sion of  bold  and  beautiful  scenes.  Sometimes 
the  landscape  towered  into  bold  and  raountain- 

99 


<o 


JSonncrtUc*d  B^vcntiircd 


\i\V 


Ifl 


i: 


i 

ous  liei^lits  that  parUK)k  of  suhliniity  ;  at  other 
times,  it  stretched  ah)!ig  the  water-side  in  fresh 
smihng  meadows,  and  graceful  Hiidulating 
valleys. 

Frequently  in  their  route  they  encountered 
small  parties  of  the  Nez  Percds,  with  whom 
they  invariably  stopped  to  shake  hands ;  and 
who,  generally,  evinced  great  curiosity  con- 
cerning them  and  their  adventures  ;  a  curiosity 
which  never  failed  to  be  thoroughly  satisfied 
by  the  replies  of  the  worthy  Yo-mus-ro-y-e-cut, 
who  kindly  took  upon  himself  to  be  spokes- 
man of  the  party. 

The  incessant  smoking  of  pipes  incident  to 
the  long  talks  of  this  excellent,  but  somewhat 
garrulous  old  chief,  at  length  exhausted  all  his 
slock  of  tobacco,  so  that  he  had  no  longer  a 
whiff  with  which  to  regale  his  white  compan- 
ions. In  this  emergency,  he  cut  up  the  stem 
of  his  pipe  into  fine  shavings,  which  he  mixed 
with  certain  herbs,  and  thus  manufactured  a 
temporary  succedaneum,  to  enable  him  to  ac- 
company his  long  colloquies  and  harangues 
with  the  customary  fragrant  cloud. 

If  the  scenery  of  the  Way-lee-way  had 
charmed  the  travellers  with  its  mingled  amenity 
and  grandeur,  that  which  broke  upon  them  on 
once  more  reaching  Snake  River,  filled  them 
with  admiration  and  astonishment.     At  times 


Sccncri?  on  Sitahc  Vivct 


4t 


the  river  was  ovcrhiini::  by  dark  ntid  stupen- 
dous rcKks,  rising  like  gigantic  walls  and 
battlements  ;  these  would  be  rent  by  wide  and 
yawning  chasms,  that  seemed  to  speak  of  past 
convulsions  of  nature.  Sometimes  the  river 
was  of  a  glassy  smoothness  and  placidity  ;  at 
other  times  it  roared  along  in  impetuous  rapids 
and  foaming  cascades.  Here  the  rocks  were 
piled  in  the  most  fantastic  crags  and  precipices  ; 
and  in  another  place,  they  were  succeeded  by 
delightful  valleys  carpeted  with  green-sward. 
The  whole  of  this  wild  and  varied  scenery  was 
dominated  by  immense  mountains  rearing  their 
distant  peaks  into  the  clouds.  '  *  The  grandeur 
and  originality  of  the  views  presented  on  every 
side,"  says  Captain  Bonneville,  **  beggar  both 
the  pencil  and  the  pen.  Nothing  we  had  ever 
gazed  upon  in  any  other  region  could  for  a 
moment  compare  in  wild  majesty  and  impres- 
sive sternness,  with  the  series  of  scenes  which 
here  at  every  turn  astonished  our  senses,  and 
filled  us  with  awe  and  delight." 

Indeed,  from  all  that  we  can  gather  from  the 
journal  before  us,  and  the  accounts  of  other 
travellers,  who  passed  through  these  regions 
in  the  memorable  enterprise  of  Astoria,  we  are 
inclined  to  think  that  Snake  River  must  be  one 
of  the  most  remarkable  for  varied  and  striking 
scenery  of  all  the  rivers  of  this  continent.  From 


Xon\\ex'i{ic*e  Bdventurce 


I' 


ii 


M 


;i-i. 


its  head-waters  in  the  Rocky  Mountains,  to  its 
junction  with  the  Columbia,  its  windings  are 
upwards  of  six  hundred  miles  through  every 
variety  of  landscaj^e.  Rising  in  a  volcanic 
region,  amidst  extinguished  craters,  and  moun- 
tains awful  with  the  traces  of  ancient  fires,  it 
makes  its  way  through  great  plains  of  lava 
and  sandy  deserts,  penetrates  vast  sierras  or 
mountainous  chains,  broken  into  romantic  and 
often  frightful  precipices,  and  crowned  with 
eternal  snows ;  and  at  other  times,  careers 
through  green  and  smiling  meadows,  and  wide 
landscapes  of  Italian  grace  and  beauty.  Wild- 
ness  and  sublimity,  however,  appear  to  be  its 
prevailing  characteristics. 

Captain  Bonneville  and  his  companions  had 
pursued  their  journey  a  considerable  distance 
down  the  course  of  Snake  River,  when  the  old 
chief  halted  on  the  bank,  and  dismounting, 
recommended  that  they  should  turn  their  horses 
loose  to  graze,  while  he  summoned  a  cousin  of 
his  from  a  group  of  lodges  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  stream.  His  summons  was  quickly 
answered.  An  Indian,  of  an  active,  elastic 
form,  leaped  into  a  light  canoe  of  cotton- wood, 
and  vigorously  plying  the  paddle,  soon  shot 
across  the  river.  Boundnig  on  shore,  he  ad- 
vanced with  a  buoyant  air  and  frank  demeanor, 
and  gave  his  right  hand  to  each  of  the  party 


Zbc  Old  CbicCs  Coudfn 


4» 


in  turn.  The  old  chief,  whose  hard  name  we 
forbear  to  rei)eat,  now  presented  Captain  Bonne- 
ville, in  form,  to  his  cousin,  whose  name,  we 
regret  to  say,  was  no  less  hard,  being  nothing 
less  than  Hay-she-in-cow-cow.  The  latter 
evinced  the  usual  curiosity  to  know  all  about 
the  strangers,  whence  they  came,  whither  they 
were  going,  the  object  of  their  journey,  and 
the  adventures  they  had  experienced.  All  these, 
of  course,  were  amply  and  eloquently  set  forth 
by  the  communicative  old  chief.  To  all  his 
grandiloquent  account  of  the  bald-headed  chief 
and  his  countrymen,  the  Big  Hearts  of  the 
East,  his  cousin  listened  with  great  attention 
and  replied  in  the  customary  style  of  Indian 
welcome.  He  then  desired  the  party  to  await 
his  return,  and,  springing  into  his  canoe,  darted 
across  the  river.  In  a  little  while  he  returned, 
bringing  a  most  welcome  supply  of  tobacco,  and 
a  small  stock  of  provisions  for  the  road,  de- 
claring his  intention  of  accompanying  the 
party.  Having  no  horse,  he  mounted  behind 
one  of  the  9ien,  observing  that  he  should  pro- 
cure a  steed  for  himself  on  the  following  day. 

They  all  now  jogged  on  very  sociably  and 
cheerily  together.  Not  many  miles  beyond, 
they  met  others  of  the  tribe,  among  whom  was 
one,  whom  Captain  Bonneville  and  his  com- 
rades had  known  during  their  residence  among 


>-■■-'       M 


<^r,:va?»     i^ 


44 


3BonncviIle'd  BDventuree 


■   I 


r  1 


i  i.i 


llic  Upper  Nez  Percds,  and  who  welcomed  them 
with  open  arms.  In  this  neighborhood  was 
the  home  of  their  guide,  who  took  leave  of 
them  with  a  profusion  of  good  wishes  for  their 
safety  and  happiness.  That  night  they  put  up 
in  the  hut  of  a  Nez  Perce,  where  they  were 
visited  by  several  warriors  from  the  other  side 
of  the  river,  friends  of  the  old  chief  and  his 
cousin,  who  came  to  have  a  talk  and  a  smoke 
with  the  white  men.  The  heart  of  the  good 
old  chief  was  overflowing  with  good-will  at 
thus  being  surrounded  by  his  new  and  old 
friends,  and  he  talked  with  more  spirit  and 
vivacity  than  ever.  The  evening  passed  away 
in  perfect  harmony  and  good-humor,  and  it 
was  not  until  a  late  hour  that  the  visitors  took 
their  leave  and  re-crossed  the  river. 

After  this  constant  picture  of  worth  and  vir- 
tue on  the  part  of  the  Nez  Perce  tribe,  we 
grieve  to  have  to  record  a  circumstance  calcu- 
lated to  throw  a  temporary*  shade  upon  the 
name.  In  the  course  of  the  social  and  harmo- 
nious evening  just  mentioned,  one  of  the  cap- 
tain's men,  who  happened  to  be  something  of 
a  virtuoso  in  his  wa}^  and  fond  of  collecting 
curiosities,  produced  a  small  skin,  a  great 
rarity  in  the  eyes  of  men  conversant  in  peltries. 
It  attracted  much  attention  among  the  visitors 
from  beyond  the  river,  who  passed  it  from  one 


\ 


Zbe  Stolen  SItfa 


# 


rom  one 


to  the  other,  examined  it  with  looks  of  lively 
admiration,  and  pronounced  it  a  great  medicine. 

In  the  morning,  when  the  captain  and  his 
party  were  about  to  set  off,  the  precious  skin 
was  missing.  Search  was  made  for  it  in  the 
hut,  but  it  was  nowhere  to  be  found  ;  and  it 
was  strongly  suspected  that  it  had  been  pur- 
loined by  some  of  the  connoisseurs  from  the 
other  side  of  the  river. 

The  old  chief  and  his  cousin  were  indignant 
at  the  supposed  delinquency  of  their  friends 
across  the  water,  and  called  out  for  them  to 
come  over  and  answer  for  their  shameful  con- 
duct. The  others  answered  to  the  call  with 
all  the  promptitude  of  perfect  innocence,  and 
spurned  at  the  idea  of  their  being  capable  of 
such  outrage  upon  any  of  the  Big-Hearted  na- 
tion. All  were  at  a  loss  on  whom  to  fix  the 
crime  of  abstracting  the  invaluable  skin,  when 
by  chance  the  eyes  of  the  worthies  from  beyond 
the  water  fell  upon  an  unhappy  cur,  belonging 
to  the  owner  of  the  hut.  He  was  a  gallows- 
looking  dog,  but  not  more  so  than  most  Indian 
dogs,  who,  take  them  in  the  mass,  are  little 
better  than  a  generation  oi'  vipers.  Be  that  as 
it  may,  he  was  instantly  accused  of  having  de- 
voured the  skin  in  question.  A  dog  accused  is 
generally  a  dog  condemned  ;  and  a  dog  con- 
demned is  generally  a  dog  executed.    So  was  it 


46 


%onnc^illc*s  B&vcnturca 


% 


k^ 


ill  the  present  instance.  The  unfortunate  cui 
was  arraigned  ;  his  thievish  looks  substantiated 
his  guilt,  and  he  was  condemned  by  his  judges 
from  across  the  river  to  be  hanged.  In  vain 
the  Indians  of  the  hut,  with  whom  he  was  a 
great  favorite,  interceded  in  his  behalf.  In 
vain  Captain  Bonneville  and  his  comrades 
petitioned  that  his  life  might  be  spared.  His 
judges  were  inexorable.  He  was  doubly- 
guilty  :  first,  in  having  robbed  their  good 
friends,  the  Big  Hearts  of  the  East  ;  secondly, 
in  having  brought  a  doubt  on  the  honor  of  the 
Nez  Perc6  tribe.  He  was,  accordingly,  swung 
aloft,  and  pelted  with  stones  to  make  his  death 
more  certain.  The  sentence  of  the  judges  be- 
ing thoroughly  executed,  a  post-mortem  ex- 
amination of  the  body  of  the  dog  w^as  held,  to 
establish  his  delinquency  beyond  all  doubt,  and 
to  leave  the  Nez  Percds  without  a  shadow  of 
suspicion.  Great  interest,  of  course,  was  mani- 
fested by  all  present,  during  this  operation. 
The  body  of  the  dog  was  opened,  the  intes- 
tines rigorously  scrutinized,  but,  to  the  horror 
of  all  concerned,  not  a  particle  of  the  skin  was 
to  be  found — the  dog  had  been  unjustly  exe- 
cuted ! 

A  great  clamor  now  ensued,  but  the  most 
clamorous  was  the  party  from  across  the  river, 
whose  jealousy   of  their   good    nairie    now 


XTbe  OID  Cbief  f  )iM(inant 


47 


most 
river, 
now 


prompted  them  to  the  most  vociferous  vindica- 
tions of  their  innocence.  It  was  with  the 
utmost  difficulty  that  the  captain  and  his  com- 
rades could  calm  their  lively  sensibilities,  by 
accounting  for  the  disappearance  of  the  skin  in 
a  dozen  different  ways,  until  all  idea  of  its 
having  been  stolen  w^as  entirely  out  of  the 
question.  " 

The  meeting  now  broke  up.  The  warriors 
returned  across  the  river,  the  captiin  and  his 
comrades  proceeded  on  their  journey  ;  but  the 
spirits  of  the  communicative  old  chief,  Yo- 
mus-ro-y-e-cut,  were  for  a  time  completely 
dampened,  and  he  evinced  great  mortification 
at  what  had  just  occurred.  He  rode  in  silence, 
except,  that  now  and  then  he  would  give  way 
to  a  burst  of  indignation,  and  exclaim,  with  a 
shake  of  the  head  and  a  toss  of  the  hand  tow- 
ard the  opposite  shore — "Bad  men,  very  bad 
men  across  the  river  "  ;  to  each  of  which  brief 
exclamations,  his  worthy  cousin,  Hay-she-in- 
cow-cow,  would  respond  by  a  deep  guttural 
sound  of  acquiescence,  equivalent  to  an  amen. 

After  some  time,  the  countenance  of  the  old 
chief  again  cleared  up,  and  he  fell  into  repeated 
conferences,  in  an  undertone,  with  his  cousin, 
which  ended  in  the  departure  of  the  latter,  who, 
applying  the  lash  to  his  horse,  dashed  forward 
and  was  soon  out  of  sight.     In  fact,  they  were 


4« 


JSoniicviIIc'0  BDveiiturc0 


if 

!! 

L 

;   W 

'J 

1        1 

^■j! 

;  f  ■ 
■(■ 

P 

i 

1 

'1^ 

■ 

h 

1 

1  , 

,1 

1 

1 

i 

I 

1 

1     ( 

j 

i 

1 

mi 

l" 

drawing  near  to  the  village  of  another  chiel, 
likewise  distinguished  by  an  appellation  of 
some  longitude,  O-push-y-e-cut  ;  but  commonly 
known  as  the  great  chief.  The  cousin  had 
l^een  sent  ahead  to  give  notice  of  their  ap- 
proach ;  a  herald  appeared  as  before,  bearing  a 
powder-horn,  to  enable  them  to  respond  to  the 
intended  salute.  A  scene  ensued,  on  their  ap- 
proach to  the  village,  similar  to  that  which  had 
occurred  at  the  village  of  the  little  chief.  The 
whole  population  appeared  in  the  field,  drawn 
up  in  lines,  arrayed  with  the  customary  regard 
to  rank  and  dignity.  Then  came  on  the  fir- 
ing of  salutes,  and  the  shaking  of  hands,  in 
which  last  ceremonial  every  individual,  man, 
woman,  and  child,  participated  ;  for  the  Indians 
have  an  idea  that  it  is  as  indispensable  an  over- 
ture of  friendship  among  the  whites  as  smoking 
of  the  pipe  is  among  the  red  men.  The  travel- 
lers were  next  ushered  to  the  banquet,  where 
all  the  choicest  viands  that  the  village  could 
furnish  were  served  up  in  rich  profusion. 
They  were  afterwards  entertained  by  feats  of 
agility  and  horse-races  ;  indeed,  their  visit  to 
the  village  seemed  the  signal  for  complete 
festivity.  In  the  meantime,  a  skin  lodge  had 
been  spread  for  their  accommodation,  their 
horses  and  baggage  were  taken  care  of,  and 
wood  and  water  supplied  in  abundance.     hX 


Captain*0  Bccount  ot  TIlnttcD  Stated       49 


night,  therefore,  they  retired  to  their  quarters, 
to  enjoy,  as  they  supposed,  the  repose  of 
vvhieh  they  stood  in  need.  No  such  thing, 
however,  was  in  store  for  them.  A  crowd  of 
visitors  awaited  their  appearance,  ail  eager  for 
a  smoke  and  a  talk.  The  pipe  was  immediately 
lighted,  and  constantly  replenished  and  kept 
alive  until  the  night  was  far  advanced.  As 
usual,  the  utmost  eagerness  was  evinced  by 
the  guests  to  learn  everything  within  the  scojxj 
of  their  comprehension  respecting  the  Ameri- 
cans, for  whom  they  professed  the  most  frater- 
nal regard.  The  captain,  in  his  replies,  made 
use  of  familiar  illustrations,  calculated  to  strike 
their  minds,  and  impress  them  with  such  an 
idea  of  the  might  of  his  nation,  as  would  in- 
duce them  to  treat  with  kindness  and  respect 
all  stragglers  that  might  fall  in  their  path. 
To  their  inquiries  as  to  the  numbers  of  the 
people  of  the  United  States,  he  assured  them 
that  they  were  as  countless  as  the  blades  of  grass 
in  the  prairies,  and  that,  great  as  Snake  River 
was,  if  they  were  all  encamped  upon  its  banks, 
they  would  drink  it  dry  in  a  single  day.  To 
these  and  similar  statistics,  they  listened  with 
profound  attention,  and  apparently,  implicit 
belief.  It  was,  indeed,  a  striking  scene :  the 
captain,  with  his  hunter's  dr-^ss  and  bald  head 
in  the  midst,  holding  forth,  and  his  wild  audi- 

VOL.  II.— 4 


50 


JSonncvillc'd  BOvcnturca 


I   I 


■  fi 


:i 


m 


SI 

111 


tors  seated  around  like  so  many  statutes,  the 
fire  lighting  up  their  painted  faces  and  muscular 
figures,  all  fixed  and  motionless,  excepting 
when  the  pipe  was  passed,  a  question  pro- 
pounded, or  a  startling  fact  in  statistics  received 
with  a  movement  of  surprise  and  a  half-sup- 
pressed ejaculation  of  wonder  and  delight. 

The  fame  of  the  captain  as  a  healer  of 
diseases,  had  accompanied  him  to  this  village, 
and  the  great  chief,  0-push-y-e-cut,  now  en- 
treated him  to  exert  his  skill  on  his  daughter, 
who  had  been  for  three  days  racked  with  pains, 
for  which  the  Pierced-Nose  doctors  could  devise 
no  alleviation  The  captain  found  her  extended 
on  a  pallet  of  mats  in  excruciating  pain.  Her 
father  manifested  the  strongest  paternal  affec- 
tion for  her,  and  assured  the  captain  that  if  he 
would  but  cure  her,  he  would  place  the  Ameri- 
cans near  his  heart.  The  worthy  captain 
needed  no  such  inducement.  His  kind  heart 
was  already  touched  by  the  sufferings  of  the 
poor  girl,  and  his  sympathies  quickened  by  her 
appearance;  for  she  was  but  about  sixteen 
years  of  age,  and  uncommonly  beautiful  in 
form  and  feature.  The  only  difficulty  with  the 
captain  was,  that  he  knew  nothing  of  her 
malady,  and  that  his  medical  science  was  of 
the  most  haphazard  kind.  After  considering 
and  cogitating  for  some  time,  as  a  man  is  apt 


«'':.:; 


-■)!!   ■ 


1? 


Ebe  Captafn'0  'Rcmeds 


51 


to  do  when  in  a  maze  of  vague  ideas,  he  made 
a  desperate  dash  at  a  remedy.  By  his  direc- 
tions, the  girl  was  placed  in  <*  sort  of  rude 
vapor-bath,  much  used  by  the  Nez  Perccs, 
where  i^he  was  kept  until  near  fainting.  He 
then  gave  her  a  dose  of  gunpowder  dissolved 
in  water,  and  ordered  her  to  be  wrapped  in 
buffalo  robes  and  put  to  sleep  under  a  load 
of  furs  and  blankets.  The  remedy  succeeded  : 
the  next  morning  she  was  free  from  pain,  though 
extremely  languid ;  whereupon,  the  captain 
prescribed  for  her  a  bowl  of  colt's  head  broth, 
and  that  she  should  be  kept  for  a  time  on 
simple  diet. 

The  great  chief  was  unbounded  in  his  ex- 
pressions of  gratitude  for  the  recovery  of  his 
daughter.  He  would  fain  have  detained  the 
captain  a  long  time  as  his  guest,  but  the  time 
for  departure  nad  arrived.  When  the  captain's 
horse  was  brought  for  him  to  mount,  the  chief 
declared  that  the  steed  was  not  worthy  of  him, 
and  sent  for  one  of  his  best  horses,  which  he 
presented  in  its  stead  ;  declaring  that  it  made 
his  heart  glad  to  see  his  friend  so  well  mounted. 
He  then  appointed  a  young  Nez  Perce  to  ac- 
company his  guests  to  the  next  village,  and 
"  to  carry  his  talk  "  concerning  them  ;  and  the 
two  parties  separated  with  mutual  expressions 
of  kindness  and  feelings  of  good-will. 


5« 


JBoniievillc'0  B^veitturee 


I'  i 


!'!•. 


The  vapor-bath  of  which  we  have  made 
mention  is  in  frequent  use  among  the  Nez 
Perce  tribe,  chiefly  for  cleanliness.  Their 
sweating-houses,  as  they  call  them,  are  small 
and  close  lodges,  and  the  vapor  is  produced  by 
water  poured  slowly  upon  red-hot  stones. 

On  passing  the  limits  of  O-push-y-e-cut's 
domains,  the  travellers  left  the  elevated  table- 
lands, and  all  the  wild  and  romantic  scenery 
which  has  just  been  described.  They  now 
t-aversed  a  gently  undulating  country,  of  such 
fertility  that  it  excited  the  rapturous  admira- 
tion of  two  of  the  captain's  followers,  a  Ken- 
tuckian  and  a  native  of  Ohio.  They  declared 
that  it  surpassed  any  land  that  they  had  ever 
seen,  and  often  exclaimed,  what  a  delight  it 
would  be  just  to  run  a  plough  through  such  a 
rich  and  teeming  soil,  and  see  it  open  its  bounti- 
ful promise  before  the  share. 

Another  halt  and  sojourn  of  a  night  was 
made  at  the  village  of  a  chief  named  He-mim- 
el-pilp,  where  similar  ceremonies  were;  observed 
and  hospitality  experienced,  as  at  the  preced- 
ing villages.  They  now  pursued  a  west-south- 
west course  through  a  beautiful  and  fertile 
region,  better  wooded  than  most  of  the  tracts 
through*  which  they  had  passed.  In  their 
progress,  they  met  with  several  bands  of  Nez 
Perces,  by  whom  they  were  invariably  treated 


arrival  at  fort  TRaaUab'TKIlallab 


S3 


with  the  utmost  kindness.  Within  seven  days 
after  leaving  the  domain  of  He-mim-el-pilp, 
they  struck  the  Columbia  River  at  F'ort  Wallah- 
Wallah,  where  they  arrived  on  the  4th  of 
March,  1834. 


Cbaptcr  V. 

Fort  Wallah-Wallah — Its  Commander — Indians  in  its 
Neighborhood — Exertions  of  Mr.  Pambrune  for 
Improvement — Religion — Code  of  Laws — Range  of 
the  Lower  Nez  Percys  — Camash,  and  other  Roots — 
Nez  Percys  Horses — Preparations  for  Departure — 
Refusal  of  Supplies — Departure — A  Laggard  and 
Glutton. 


ill 


!li| 


•'i  I 


'I: 


FORT  Wallah- Wallah  is  a  trading  post  of 
the  Hudson's  Bay  Company,  situated 
just  above  the  mouth  of  the  river  of  the 
same  name,  and  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Colum- 
bia. It  is  built  of  driftwood,  and  calculated 
merely  for  defense  against  any  attack  of  the 
natives.  At  the  time  of  Captain  Bonneville's 
arrival,  the  whole  garriLon  mustered  b«t  six 
or  eight  men ;  and  the  post  was  under  the 
superintendence  of  Mr.  Pambrune,  an  agent  of 
the  Hudson's  Bay  Company. 

The  great  post  and  fort   of  the  company, 
forming  the  emporium  of  its  trade  on  the  Pa- 
Si 


Abr.  pambrunc'0  Bscrtfons 


55 


cific,  is  Fort  Vancouver  ;  situated  on  the  riy;lit 
bank  of  the  Columbia,  about  sixty  miles  from 
the  sea,  and  just  above  the  mouth  of  the  Wal- 
lamut.  To  this  point  the  company  removed 
its  establishment  from  Astoria,  in  1821,  after 
its  coalition  with  the  Northwest  Company. 

Captain  Bonneville  and  his  comrades  experi- 
enced a  polite  reception  from  Mr.  Pambrune, 
the  superintendent :  for,  however  hostile  the 
members  of  the  British  Company  may  be  to  the 
enterprises  of  American  traders,  they  have 
always  manifested  great  courtesy  and  hospital- 
ity to  the  traders  themselves. 

Fort  Wallah-Wallah  is  surrounded  by  the 
tribe  of  the  same  name,  as  well  as  by  the  Skyn- 
ses,  and  the  Nez  Percys ;  who  bring  to  it  the  furs 
and  peltries  collected  in  their  hunting  expedi- 
tions. The  Wallah-Wallahs  are  a  degenerate, 
worn-out  tribe.  The  Nez  Perces  are  the  most 
numerous  and  tractable  >f  the  three  tribes  just 
mentioned.  Mr.  Pamhruiae  informed  Captain 
Bonneville,  that  he  had  been  at  some  pains  to 
introduce  the  Christian  religion,  in  the  Roman 
Catholic  form,  among  them,  where  it  had  evi- 
dently taken  root ;  but  had  become  altered  and 
modified,  to  suit  their  peculiar  habits  of 
thought,  and  motives  of  action  ;  retaining, 
however,  the  principal  points  of  faith,  and  its 
entire  precepts  of  morality.     The  same  gentle- 


I 

,  J. 

^'fli.^ii 

;»!.. 

t^^BL'      -^^BM 

■•1;: 

•I 

^1^     '  i^IrI 

'  1 ' 
1-    • 

v^Ks  ■    yWK 

m 

^B   ^^B 

-■ ,» 

^^^Br-l         r^lilijl 

^^K-     '  ^'^-W 

.  ■  \ 

56 


Xonncvi\le*0  Bdi^enturea 


M 


I 


nih 


i 

hi 
If 


man  had  given  Ihem  a  code  of  laws,  to  which 
Ihey  conformed  with  scrupulous  fidelity.  Po- 
lygamy, which  once  prevailed  among  them  to 
a  great  extent,  was  now  rarely  indulged.  All 
the  crimes  denounced  by  the  Christian  faith, 
met  with  severe  punishment  among  them. 
Even  theft,  so  venial  a  crime  among  the  In- 
dians, had  recently  been  punished  with  hang- 
ing, by  sentence  of  a  chief. 

There  certainly  appears  to  be  a  peculiar  sus- 
ceptibility of  moral  and  religious  improvement 
among  this  tribe,  and  they  would  seem  to  be 
one  of  the  very,  very  few,  that  had  benefited 
in  morals  and  manners  by  an  intercourse  with 
white  men.  The  parties  which  visited  them 
about  twenty  years  previously,  in  the  expedi- 
tion fitted  out  by  Mr.  Astor,  complained  of 
their  selfishness,  their  extortion,  and  their 
thievish  propensities.  The  very  reverse  of 
those  qualities  prevailed  among  them  during 
the  prolonged  sojourns  of  Captain  Bonneville. 

The  Lower  Nez  Perces  range  upon  the  Way- 
lee- way,  Immahah,  Yenghies,  and  other  of  the 
streams  west  of  the  mountains.  They  hunt 
the  beaver,  elk,  deer,  white  bear,  and  moun- 
tain sheep.  Besides  the  flesh  of  these  animals, 
they  use  a  number  of  roots  for  food  ;  some  of 
which  would  be  well  worth  transplanting  and 
cultivating    in  the  Atlantic    States.     Among 


TTbe  Xowcr  flc3  pcrc^0 


57 


these  is  the  kamash,  a  sweet  root,  about  the 
form  and  size  of  an  onion,  and  said  to  be  really 
delicious.  The  cowish,  also,  or  biscuit  root, 
about  the  size  of  a  walnut,  which  they  reduce 
to  a  very  palatable  flour,  together  with  the 
jackap,  aisish,  quako,  and  others,  which  they 
cook  by  steaming  them  in  the  ground. 

In  August  and  September,  these  Indians 
keep  along  the  rivers,  where  they  catch  and 
dry  great  quantities  of  salmon  ;  which,  while 
they  last,  are  their  principal  food.  In  the 
\  winter,  they  congregate  in  villages  formed  of 
comfortable  huts,  or  lodges,  covered  with  mats. 
They  are  generally  clad  in  deer-skins,  or  wool- 
lens, and  extremely  well  armed.  Above  all, 
they  are  celebrated  for  owning  great  numbers 
of  horses,  which  they  mark,  and  then  suffer 
to  range  in  droves  in  their  most  fertile  plains. 
These  horses  are  principally  of  the  pony  breed, 
but  remarkably  stout  and  long-winded.  They 
are  brought  in  great  numbers  to  the  establish- 
ments of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company,  and  sold 
for  a  mere  trifle. 

Such  is  the  account  given  by  Captain  Bon- 
neville of  the  Nez  Perces  ;  who,  if  not  viewed 
by  him  with  too  partial  an  eye,  are  certainly 
among  the  gentlest  and  least  barbarous  people 
of  these  remote  wildernesses.  They  invariably 
signifled  to  him  their  earnest  wish  that  an 


y  *^ 


38 


XonncviVe*B  Bdventarea 


;'!'  m 


y  I 


i  m 


American  post  might  be  established  among 
them  ;  and  repeatedly  declared  that  they  would 
trade  with  Americans,  in  preference  to  any 
other  people. 

Captain  Bonneville  had  intended  to  remain 
some  time  in  this  neighborhood,  to  form  an 
acquaintance  with  the  natives  and  to  collect 
information,  and  establish  connections  that 
might  be  advantageous  in  the  way  of  trade. 
The  delays,  however,  which  he  had  experi- 
enced on  his  journey,  obliged  him  to  shorten 
his  sojourn,  and  to  set  ofif  as  soon  as  possible, 
so  as  to  reach  the  rendezvous  at  the  Portneuf 
at  the  appointed  time.  He  had  seen  enough  to 
convince  him  that  an  American  trade  might  be 
carried  on  with  advantage  in  this  quarter  ;  and 
he  determined  soon  to  return  with  a  stronger 
party,  more  completely  fitted  for  the  purpose. 

As  he  stood  in  need  of  some  supplies  for  his 
journey,  he  applied  to  purchase  them  of  Mr. 
Pambrune ;  but  soon  found  the  difference  be- 
tween being  treated  as  a  guest,  or  as  a  rival 
trader.  The  worthy  superintendent,  who  had 
extended  to  him  all  the  genial  rites  of  hospital- 
ity, now  suddenly  assumed  a  withered-up  as- 
pect and  demeanor,  and  observed  that,  however 
he  might  feel  disposed  to  serve  him,  personally, 
he  felt  bound  by  his  duty  to  the  Hudson's  Bay 
Company,  to  do  nothing  which  should  facili- 


.  i'  i- : 


'Rcfueal  of  Supplies 


50 


tate  or  encourage  the  visits  of  other  trailers 
among  t!:e  Indians  in  that  part  of  the  country. 
He  endeavored  to  dissuade  Captain  Bonneville 
from  returning  through  the  Blue  Mountains  ; 
assuring  him  it  would  be  extremely  difficult 
and  dangerous,  if  not  impracticable,  at  this 
season  of  the  year  ;  and  advised  him  co  accom- 
pany Mr.  Payette,  a  leader  of  the  Hudson's 
Bay  Company,  who  was  about  to  depart  with 
a  number  of  men,  by  a  more  circuitous,  but 
safe  route,  to  carry  supplies  to  the  company's 
agent,  resident  among  the  Upper  Nez  Perces. 
Captain  Bon  -^"ille,  however,  piqued  at  his 
having  refur  ^  ^o  furnish  him  with  supplies, 
and  doubting  the  sincerity  of  his  advice,  deter- 
mined to  return  by  the  more  direct  route 
through  the  mountains ;  though  varying  his 
course,  in  some  respects,  from  that  by  which 
he  had  come,  in  consequence  of  information 
gathered  among  the  neighboring  Indians. 

Accordingly,  on  the  6th  of  March,  he  and 
his  three  companions,  accompanied  by  their 
Nez  Percd  guides,  set  out  on  their  return. 
In  the  early  part  of  their  course,  they  touched 
again  at  several  of  the  Nez  Perc6  villages, 
where  they  had  experienced  such  kind  treat- 
ment on  their  way  down.  They  were  always 
welcomed  with  cordiality  ;  and  everything  was 
done  to  cheer  them  on  their  journey. 


f 

It 


r::i-Mr 


) 


I'^iiief 


t 


60 


JSonnerillc'd  'adventurer 


On  leaving  the  Way-lee-way  village,  they 
were  joined  by  a  Nez  Perce,  whose  society  was 
welcomed  on  account  of  the  general  gratitude 
and  good-will  'ley  felt  for  his  tribe.  He  soon 
proved  a  heavy  clog  upon  the  little  party, 
being  doltish  and  taciturn,  lazy  in  the  extreme, 
and  a  huge  feeder.  His  only  proof  of  intellect 
was  in  shrewdly  avoiding  all  labor,  and  avail- 
ing himself  of  the  toil  of  others.  When  on  the 
march,  he  always  lagged  behind  the  rest,  leav- 
ing to  them  the  task  of  breaking  a  way  through 
all  difficulties  and  impediments,  and  leisurely 
and  lazily  jogging  along  the  track,  which  they 
had  beaten  through  the  snow.  At  the  evening 
encampment,  when  others  were  busy  gathering 
fuel,  providing  .for  the  horses,  and  cooking  the 
evening  repast,  this  worthy  Sancho  of  the 
wilderness  would  take  his  seat  quietly  and 
cosily  by  the  fire,  puffing  away  at  his  pipe,  and 
eying  in  silence,  but  with  wistful  intensity  of 
gaze,  the  savory  morsels  roasting  for  supper. 

When  meal-time  arrived,  however,  then  came 
hit:  season  of  activity.  He  no  longer  hung 
back,  and  waited  for  others  to  take  the  lead, 
but  distinguished  himself  by  a  brilliancy  of 
onset,  and  a  sustained  vigor  and  duration  of 
attack,  that  completely  shamed  the  effi^rts  of 
his  competitors — albeit,  experienced  trencher- 
men of  no  mean  prowess.     Never  had  they 


1:: 


B  Sancbo  of  tbc  TIQltl^erneed 


6i 


witnessed  such  a  power  of  mastication,  and 
such  marvellous  capacity  of  stomach,  as  in  this 
native  and  uncultivated  gastronome.  Having, 
by  repeated  and  prolonged  assaults,  at  length 
completely  gorged  himself  he  would  wrap  him- 
self up,  and  lie  with  the  torpor  of  an  anaconda, 
slowly  digesting  his  way  on  to  the  next  repast. 
The  gormandizing  powers  of  this  worthy 
were,  at  first,  matters  of  surprise  and  merri- 
ment to  the  travellers  ;  but  they  soon  became 
too  serious  for  a  joke,  threatening  devastation 
to  the  flesh-pots  ;  and  he  was  regarded  askance, 
at  his  meals,  as  a  regular  kill-crop,  destined  to 
waste  the  substance  of  the  party.  Nothing 
but  a  sense  of  the  obligations  they  were  under 
to  his  nation,  induced  them  to  bear  with  such 
a  guest ;  but  he  proceeded,  speedily,  to  relieve 
them  from  the  weight  of  these  obligations,  by 
eating  a  receipt  in  full. 


Cbapter  Df  • 


f!?: 


!■    ( 


The  Uninvited  Guest — Free  and  Easy  Manners — 
Salutary  Jokes — A  Prodigal  Son— Exit  of  the  Glut- 
ton— A  Sudden  Change  in  Fortune — Danger  of  a 
Visit  tjo  Poor  Relauons — Plucking  of  a  Prosperous 
Man — A  Vagabond  Toilet — A  Substitute  for  the 
Very  Fine  Horse — Hard  Travelling— The  Uninvited 
Guest  and  the  Patriarchal  Colt — A  Beggar  on  Horse- 
back— A  Catastrophe — Exit  of  the  Merry  Vagabond. 

AS  Captain  Bonneville  and  his  men  were 
encamped  one  evening  among  the  hills 
near  Snake  River,  seated  before  their 
fire,  enjoying  a  hearty  supper,  they  were  sud- 
denly surprised  by  the  visit  of  an  uninvited 
guest.  He  was  a  ragged,  half-naked  Indian 
hunter,  armed  with  bow  and  arrows,  and  had 
the  carcass  of  a  fine  buck  thrown  across  his 
shoulder.  Advancing  with  an  alert  step,  and 
free  and  easy  air,  he  threw  the  buck  on  the 
ground,  and,  without  waiting  for  an  invitation, 
seated  himself  at  their  mess,  helped  himself 
without  ceremony,  and  chatted  to  the  right  and 

6a 


Zbc  inninvfted  Guest 


63 


left  in  the  liveliest  and  most  unembarrassed 
manner.  No  adroit  and  veteran  dinner  hunter 
of  a  metropolis  could  have  acquitted  himself 
more  knowingly.  The  travellers  were  at  first 
completely  taken  by  surprise,  and  could  not 
but  admire  the  facility  with  which  this  ragged 
cosmopolite  made  himself  at  home  among  them. 
While  they  stared  he  went  on,  making  the 
most  of  the  good  cheer  upon  which  he  had  so 
fortunately  alighted ;  and  was  soon  elbow  deep 
in  "  pot  luck,"  and  greased  from  the  tip  of  his 
nose  to  the  back  of  his  ears. 

As  the  company  recovered  from  tht  sur- 
prise, they  began  to  feel  annoyed  at  this  in- 
trusion. Their  uninvited  guest,  unlike  the 
generality  of  his  tribe,  was  somewhat  dirty  as 
well  as  ragged,  and  they  had  no  relish  for 
such  a  messmate.  Heaping  up,  therefore,  an 
abundant  portion  of  the  **provant "  upon  a 
piece  of  bark  which  served  for  a  dish,  they 
invited  him  to  confine  himself  thereto,  instead 
of  foraging  in  the  general  mess. 

He  complied  with  ths  most  accommodating 
spirit  imaginable ;  and  went  on  eating  and 
chatting,  and  laughing  and  smearing  himself, 
until  his  whole  countenance  shone  with  grease 
and  good-humor.  In  the  course  of  his  repast, 
his  attention  was  caught  by  the  figure  of  the 
gastronome,  who,  as  usual,  was  gorging  him- 


1 1 


h'    I 


64 


JSonnevtne'0  'Bbvcntntce 


iM 


self  in  dogged  silence.  A  droll  cut  of  the  eye 
showed  either  that  he  knew  him  of  old,  or 
perceived  at  once  his  characteristics.  He 
immediately  made  him  the  butt  of  his  pleasan- 
tries ;  and  cracked  off  two  or  three  good  hits, 
that  caused  the  sluggish  dolt  to  prick  up  his 
ears,  and  delighted  all  the  company.  From 
this  time  the  uninvited  guest  was  taken  into 
favor ;  his  jokes  began  to  be  relished  ;  his 
careless,  free  and  easy  air,  to  be  considered 
singularly  amusing ;  and  in  the  end  he  was 
pronounced  bj^  the  travellers  one  of  the  merriest 
companions  and  most  entertaining  vagabonds 
they  had  met  with  in  the  wilderness. 

Supper  being  over,  the  redoubtable  She-wee- 
slie-ouaiter,  for  such  was  the  simple  name  by 
which  he  announced  himself,  declared  his 
intention  of  keeping  company  with  the  party 
for  a  day  or  two,  if  they  had  no  objection  ;  and 
by  way  of  backing  his  seJf-invitation,  presented 
the  carcass  of  the  buck  as  an  earnest  of  his 
hunting  abilities.  By  this  time,  he  had  so 
completely  effaced  the  unfavorable  impression 
made  by  his  fiirst  appearance,  that  he  was  made 
welcome  to  the  camp,  and  the  Nez  Perc6  guide 
undertook  to  give  him  lodging  for  the  night. 
The  next  morning,  at  break  of  day,  he  bor- 
rowed a  gun,  and  was  off  among  the  hills, 
nor  was  anything  more  seen  of  him   until  a 


l!;:!? 


B  f^ro^i0aI  Son 


65 


few  minutes  after  the  party  had  eiicaini)ed  for 
the  evening,  when  he  again  made  his  apiH.*ar- 
ance,  in  his  usual  frank,  careless  manner,  and 
threw  down  the  carcass  of  another  noble  deer, 
which  he  had  borne  on  his  back  for  a  con- 
siderable distance. 

This  evening  he  was  the  life  of  the  party, 
and  his  open,  communicative  disposition,  free 
from  all  disguise,  soon  put  them  in  possession 
of  his  history.  He  had  been  a  kind  of  prodigal 
1  son  in  his  native  village  ;  living  a  loose,  heed- 
'less  life,  and  disregarding  the  precepts  and 
imperative  commands  of  the  chiefs.  He  had, 
in  consequence,  been  expelled  from  the  village, 
but  in  nowise  disheartened  at  this  banishment, 
had  betaken  himself  to  the  society  of  the 
border  Indians,  and  had  led  a  careless,  hap- 
hazard, vagabond  life,  perfectly  consonant  to 
his  humors  ;  heedless  of  the  future,  so  long  as 
he  had  wherewithal  for  the  present ;  and  fear- 
ing no  lack  of  food,  so  long  as  he  had  the 
implements  of  the  chase,  and  a  fair  hunting 
ground. 

Finding  him  very  expert  as  a  hunter,  and 
being  pleased  with  his  eccentricities,  and  his 
strange  and  merry  humor.  Captain  Bonneville 
fitted  him  out  handsomely  as  the  Nimrod  of 
the  party,  who  all  soon  became  quite  attached 
to  him.     One  of  the  earliest  and  most  signal 

VOL.  11,-^5 


66 


3BonnevtUe'0  Bdventurcd 


« 

r 

1:1'   ' 

fi  :;■ 


i 


(.i'tr 


i!i; 


•    M 


'  !•'■ 


services  he  performed,  was  to  exorcise  the 
insatiate  kill-crop,  that  had  hitherto  oppressed 
the  party.  In  fact,  the  doltish  Nez  Perc^,  who 
had  seemed  so  perfectly  insensible  to  roug"h 
treatment  of  every  kind,  by  which  the  travellers 
had  endeavored  to  elbow  him  out  of  their 
society,  could  not  withstand  the  good-humored 
bantering,  and  occasionally  sharp  wit  of  She- 
wee-she.  He  evidently  quailed  under  his 
jokes,  and  sat  blinking  like  an  owl  in  daylight 
when  pestered  by  the  flouts  and  peckings  of 
mischievous  birds.  At  length  his  place  was 
found  vacant  at  meal-time  ;  no  one  knew  when 
he  went  off,  or  whither  he  had  gone,  but  he 
was  seen  no  morC;  and  the  vast  surplus  that 
remained  when  the  repast  was  over,  showed 
what  a  mighty  gormandizer  had  departed. 

Relieved  from  this  incubus,  the  little  party 
now  went  on  cheerily.  She- wee-she  kept  them 
in  fun  as  well  as  food.  His  hunting  was 
always  successful ;  he  was  ever  ready  to  render 
any  assistance  in  the  camp  or  on  the  march  ; 
while  his  jokes,  his  antics,  and  the  very  cut 
of  his  countenance,  so  full  of  whim  and  com- 
icality, kept  everyone  in  good-humor. 

In  this  way  they  journeyed  on  until  they 
arrived  on  the  banks  of  the  Immahah,  and 
encamped  near  to  the  Nez  Perce  lodges. 
Here  She- wee-she  took   a  sudden   notion  to 


B  Iteverdc  ot  /ortune 


67 


visit  his  people,  and  show  off  the  state  of 
worldly  prosperity  to  which  he  had  so  suddenly 
attained.  He  accordingly  departed  in  the 
morning,  arrayed  in  hunter's  style,  and  well 
appointed  with  everything  befitting  his  voca- 
tion. The  buoyancy  of  his  gait,  the  elasticity 
of  his  step,  and  the  hilarity  of  his  countenance, 
showed  that  he  anticipated,  with  chuckling 
satisfaction,  the  surprise  he  was  about  to  give 
those  who  had  ejected  him  from  their  society 
in  rags.  But  what  a  change  was  there  in  his 
whole  appearance  when  he  rejoined  the  party 
in  the  evening  !  He  came  skulking  into  camp 
like  a  beaten  cur  with  his  tail  between  his 
legs.  All  his  finery  was  gone  ;  he  was  naked 
as  when  he  was  bom,  with  the  exception  of  a 
scanty  flap  that  answered  the  purpose  of  a  fig- 
leaf  His  fellow-  travellers  at  first  did  not  know 
him,  but  supposed  it  to  be  some  vagrant  Root 
Digger  sneaking  into  the  camp  ;  but  when 
they  recognized  in  this  forlorn  object  their 
prime  wag.  She-wee-she,  whom  they  had  seen 
depart  in  the  morning  in  such  high  glee  and 
high  feather,  they  could  not  contain  their 
merriment,  but  hailed  him  with  loud  and 
repeated   peals  of  laughter. 

She-wee-she  was  not  of  a  spirit  to  be  easily 
cast  down  ;  he  soon  joined  in  the  merriment  as 
heartily  as  anyone,  and  seemed  to  consider  his 


v'f^ 


1 


68 


JSonncvillc'B  BOvcuturcd 


i^f  ;  ,1 


li' ;. , 


reverse  o(  fortune  an  excellent  joke.  Captain 
Honneville,  however,  thought  proper  to  check 
his  good-humor,  and  demanded,  with  some  de- 
gree of  sternness,  the  cause  of  his  altered  con- 
dition. He  replied  in  the  most  natural  and 
self-complacent  style  imaginable,  *'  that  he  had 
been  among  his  cousins,  who  were  very  poor  ; 
they  had  been  delighted  to  see  him  ;  still  more 
delighted  with  his  good  fortune  ;  they  had 
taken  him  to  their  arms  ;  admired  his  equip- 
ments ;  one  had  begged  for  this  ;  another  for 
that  " — in  fine,  what  with  the  poor  devil's  in- 
herent heedlessness,  and  the  real  generosity  of 
his  disposition,  his  needy  cousins  had  succeeded 
in  stripping  him  of  all  his  clothes  and  accoutre- 
ments, excepting  the  fig-leaf  with  which  he 
had  returned  to  camp. 

Seeing  his  total  want  of  care  and  fore- 
thought. Captain  Bonneville  determined  to  let 
him  suffer  a  little,  in  hopes  it  might  prove  a 
salutary  lesson  ;  and,  at  any  rate,  to  make  him 
no  more  presents  while  in  the  neighborhood  of 
his  needy  cousins.  He  was  left,  therefore,  to 
shift  for  himself  in  his  naked  condition  ;  which, 
however,  did  not  seem  to  give  him  any  concern, 
or  to  abate  one  jot  of  his  good-humor.  In  the 
course  of  his  lounging  about  the  camp,  how- 
ever, he  got  possession  of  a  deer-skin  ;  where- 
upon, cutting  a  slit  in  the.  middle,  he  thrust 


It^ci  pcrc<f  f>ordCd 


f,9 


his  head  through  it,  so  that  the  two  ends  hung 
down  before  and  behind,  something  Hke  a 
South  American  poncho,  or  the  tabard  of  a 
herald.  These  ends  he  tied  together,  under 
the  armpits  ;  and  thus  arrayed,  presented  him- 
self once  more  before  the  captain,  with  an  air 
of  perfect  self-satisfaction,  as  though  he  thought 
it  impossible  for  any  fault  to  be  found  with  h's 
toilette. 

A  little  further  journeying  brought  the  trav- 
ellers to  the  pretty  village  of  Nez  Perccs,  gov- 
erned by  the  worthy  and  affectionate  old 
patriarch  who  had  made  Captain  Bonneville 
the  costly  present  of  the  very  fine  horse.  The 
old  man  welcomed  them  once  more  to  his 
village  with  his  usual  cordiality,  and  his  re- 
spectable squaw  and  hopeful  son,  cherishing 
grateful  recollections  of  the  hatchet  and  ear- 
bobs,  joined  in  a  chorus  of  friendly  congratu- 
lation. 

As  the  much  vaunted  steed,  once  the  joy  and 
pride  of  this  interesting  family,  was  now  nc.r  ly 
knocked  up  by  travelling,  and  totally  inade- 
quate to  the  mountain  scramble  that  lay  ahead. 
Captain  Bonneville  restored  him  to  the  vener- 
able patriarch,  with  renewed  acknowledgments 
for  the  invaluable  gift.  Somewhat  to  his  sur- 
prise, he  was  immediately  supplied  with  a  fine 
two  years'  old  colt  in  his  stead,  a  substitution 


^1 


n 


*ii 


n 


70 


MonncviWc'B  Bdvcntures 


.■;. 

!1" 


ilii 


■fci  ■ 


til 


which,  he  afterwards  learnt,  according  to  In- 
dian custom  in  such  cases,  he  might  have 
claimed  as  a  matter  of  right.  We  do  not  find 
that  any  other  claims  were  made  on  account  of 
this  colt.  This  donation  may  be  regarded, 
therefore,  as  a  signal  punctilio  of  Indian  honor  ; 
but  it  will  be  found  that  the  animal  soon  proved 
an  unlucky  acquisition  to  the  party. 

While  at  this  village,  the  Nez  Perce  guide 
had  held  consultations  with  some  of  the  in- 
habitants as  to  the  mountain  tract  the  party 
were  about  to  traverse.  He  now  began  to  wear 
an  anxious  aspect,  and  to  indulge  in  gloomy 
forebodings.  The  snow,  he  had  been  told,  lay 
to  a  great  depth  in  the  passes  of  the  mountains, 
and  difiiculties  would  increase  as  he  proceeded. 
He  begged  Captain  Bonneville,  therefore,  to 
travel  very  slowly,  so  as  to  keep  the  horses  in 
strength  and  spirit  for  the  hard  times  they 
would  have  to  encounter.  The  captain  sur- 
rendered the  regulation  of  the  march  entirely 
to  his  discretion,  and  pushed  on  in  the  advance, 
amusing  himself  with  hunting,  so  as  generally 
to  kill  a  deer  or  two  in  the  course  of  the  day,  and 
arriving,  before  the  rest  of  the  party,  at  the 
spot  designated  by  the  guide  for  the  evening's 
encampment. 

In  the  meantime,  the  others  plodded  on  at 
the  heels  of  the  guide,  accompanied  by  that 


Zhc  f  itDfaii  Droll 


71 


merry  vagabond,  She- wee-she.  The  primitive 
garb  worn  by  this  droll,  left  all  his  nether  man 
exposed  to  the  biting  blasts  of  the  mountains. 
Still  his  wit  was  never  frozen,  nor  his  sunshiny 
temper  beclouded ;  and  his  innumerable  antics 
and  practical  jokes,  while  they  quickened  the 
circulation  of  his  own  blood,  kept  his  compan- 
ions in  high  good-humor. 

So  passed  the  first  day  after  the  departure 
from  the  patriarch's.  The  second  day  com- 
menced in  the  same  manner ;  the  captain  in 
the  advance,  the  rest  of  the  party  following  on 
slowly.  She- wee-she,  for  the  greater  part  of 
time,  trudged  on  foot  over  the  snow,  keeping 
himself  warm  by  haid  exercise,  and  all  kinds 
of  crazy  capers.  In  the  height  of  his  foolery, 
the  patriarchal  colt,  which,  unbroken  to  the 
saddle,  was  suffered  to  follow  on  at  large,  hap- 
pened to  come  within  his  reach.  In  a  moment, 
he  was  on  his  back>  snapping  his  fingers,  and 
yelping  with  delight.  The  colt,  unused  to 
such  a  burden,  and  half-wild  by  nature,  fell  to 
prancing  and  rearing  and  snorting  and  plung- 
ing and  kicking  ;  and,  at  length,  set  off  at  full 
speed  over  the  most  dangerous  ground.  As 
the  route  led  generally  along  the  steep  and 
craggy  sides  of  the  hills,  both  horse  and  horse- 
man were  constantly  in  danger,  and  more  than 
once  had  a  hair-breadth  escape  from  deadly 


72 


3Sonncvillc*d  BDvciiturcs 


n   ':      ii 


!■•■;    i! 


■ 


ii 


ii;< 


Hi 


.1: 


pi^ 


i 

1^.; 

'.  )■ 

'r,    J.     ■■"    ^ 

1 

peril.  Nothing,  however,  could  daunt  this 
madcap  savage.  He  stuck  to  the  colt  like  a 
plaster,  up  ridges,  down  gullies ;  whooping 
and  yelling  with  the  wildest  glee.  Never  did 
beggar  on  horseback  display  more  headlong 
horsemanship.  His  companions  followed  him 
with  their  eyes,  sometimes  laughing,  sometimes 
holding  in  their  breath  at  his  vagaries,  until 
they  saw  the  colt  make  a  sudden  plunge  or 
start,  and  pitch  his  unlucky  rider  headlong 
over  a  precipice.  There  was  a  general  cry  of 
horror,  and  all  hastened  to  the  spot.  They 
found  the  poor  fellow  lying  among  the  rocks 
below,  sadly  bruised  and  mangled.  It  was  al- 
most a  miracle  that  he  had  escaped  with  life. 
Even  in  this  condition,  his  merry  spirit  was  not 
entirely  quelled,  and  he  summoned  up  a  feeble 
laugh  at  the  alarm  and  anxiety  of  those  who 
came  to  his  relief.  He  was  extricated  from 
his  rocky  bed,  and  a  messenger  dispatched  to 
inform  Captain  Bonneville  of  the  accident. 
The  latter  returned  with  all  speed,  and  en- 
camped the  party  at  the  first  convenient  spot. 
Here  the  wounded  man  was  stretched  upon 
buffalo  skins,  and  the  captain,  who  officiated 
on  all  occasions  as  doctor  and  surgeon  to  the 
party,  proceeded  to  examine  his  wounds.  The 
principal  one  was  a  long  and  deep  gash  in  the 
thigh,  which   reached  to  the  bone.     Calling 


Aidadvcnture  of  Sbc«Xacc«Sbc 


73 


/or  a  needle  and  thread,  the  captain  now  pre- 
pared to  sew  up  the  wound,  admonishing  the 
patient  to  submit  to  the  operation  with  becom- 
ing fortitude.  His  gayety  was  at  an  end  ;  he 
could  no  longer  summon  up  even  a  forced 
smile ;  and,  at  the  first  puncture  of  the  needle, 
flinched  so  piteously,  that  the  captain  was 
obliged  to  pause,  and  to  order  him  a  powerful 
dose  of  alcohol.  This  somewhat  rallied  up 
his  spirit  and  warmed  his  heart ;  all  the  time 
of  the  operation,  however,  he  kept  his  eyes 
riveted  on  the  wound,  with  his  teeth  set,  and 
a  whimsical  wincing  of  the  countenance,  tliat 
occasionally  gave  his  nose  something  of  its 
usual  comic  curl. 

When  the  wound  was  fairly  closed,  the  cap- 
tain washed  it  with  rum,  and  administered  a 
second  dose  of  the  same  to  the  patient,  who 
was  tucked  in  for  the  night,  and  advised  to 
compose  himself  to  sleep.  He  was  restless  and 
uneasy,  however  ;  repeatedly  expressing  his 
fears  that  his  leg  would  be  so  much  swollen 
the  next  day,  as  to  prevent  his  proceeding  with 
the  party ;  nor  could  he  be  quieted,  until  the 
captain  gave  a  decided  opinion  favorable  to 
his  wishes. 

Early  the  next  morning,  a  gleam  of  his 
merry  humor  returned,  on  finding  that  his 
wounded  limb  retained  its  natural  proportions. 


'm 


m 


^MBli 


m' 


74 


Xon\KVi{ic*6  BDventurc6 


|i;" 


"'irJi 


On  attempting  to  use  it,  however,  he  found 
himself  unable  to  stand.  He  made  several 
efforts  to  coax  himself  into  a  belief  that  he 
might  still  continue  forward ;  but  at  length, 
shook  his  head  despondirgly,  and  said,  that 
**  as  he  had  but  one  leg,*'  it  was  all  in  vain  to 
attempt  a  passage  of  the  mountain. 

Everyone  grieved  to  part  with  so  boon  a 
companion,  and  under  such  disastrous  circum- 
stances. He  was  once  more  clothed  and 
equipped,  each  one  making  him  some  parting 
present.  He  was  then  helped  on  a  horse, 
which  Captain  Bonneville  presented  to  him  ; 
and  after  many  parting  expressions  of  good- 
will on  both  sides,  set  off  on  his  return  to  his 
old  haunts  ;  doubtless,  to  be  once  more  plucked 
by  his  affectionate  but  needy  cousins. 


ii' 


Cbapter  Wf  f  • 

The  Difficult  Mountain— A  Smoke  and  Consultation 
— The  Captain's  Speech— An  Icy  Turnpike — Danger 
of  a  False  Step— Arrival  on  Snake  River — Return  to 
Portneuf — Meeting  of  Comrades. 


CONTINUING  their  journey  up  the  course 
of  the  Immahah,  the  travellers  found, 
as  they  approached  the  head-waters, 
the  snow  increased  in  quantity,  so  as  to  lie  two 
feet  deep.  They  were  again  obliged,  therefore, 
to  beat  down  a  path  for  their  horses,  some- 
times travelling  on  the  icy  surface  of  the 
stream.  At  length  they  reached  the  place 
where  they  intended  to  scale  the  mountain ; 
and,  having  broken  a  pathway  to  the  foot, 
were  agreeably  surprised  to  find  that  the  wind 
had  drifted  the  snow  from  off  the  side,  so  that 
they  attained  the  summit  with  but  little  diffi- 
culty. Here  they  encamped,  with  the  inten- 
tion of  beating  a  track  through  the  mountains. 
A  short  experiment,  however,  obliged  them  to 

71 


76 


J3onneviUc*0  liX^vcntnxcB 


give  up  the  attempt,  the  snow  lying  in  vast 
drifts,  often  higher  than  the  horses'  heads. 

Captain  Bonneville  no,v  took  the  two  Indiiui 
guides,  and  set  out  to  reconnoitre  the  neigh- 
borhood. Observing  a  high  peak  v/hich  over- 
topped the  rest,  he  climbed  it,  and  discovered 
from  the  summit  a  pass  abotit  nine  miles  long, 
but  so  heavily  piled  with  snow,  that  it  seemed 
impracticable.  He  now  lit  a  pipe,  and,  sitting 
down  with  the  two  guides,  proceeded  to  hold 
a  consultation  aftfi  the  Indian  mode.  For  a 
long  while  they  oil  smoked  vigorously  and  in 
silejice,  ponderiiig  over  the  subject-matter  be- 
fore them.  At  length  a  discussion  commenced, 
and  the  opinion  in  which  the  two  guides  con- 
curred, waSj  that  the  horses  could  not  possibly 
cross  the  snows.  They  advised,  therefore, 
that  the  party  should  proceed  on  foot,  and  they 
should  take  the  horses  back  to  the  village, 
where  they  would  be  well  taken  care  of  until 
Captain  Bonneville  should  send  for  them. 
They  urged  this  advice  with  great  earnestness ; 
declaring  that  their  chief  would  be  extremely 
angry,  and  treat  them  severely,  should  any  of 
the  horses  of  his  good  friends,  the  white  men, 
be  lost,  in  crossing  under  their  guidance  ;  and 
that,  therefore,  it  was  good  they  should  not 
attempt  ic.  ^ 

Captain  Bonneville  sat  smoking  his  pipe,  and 


(Tbc  Captain  perplexed 


77 


listening  to  ihem  with  Indian  silence  and 
gravity.  When  they  had  finished,  he  replied 
to  them  in  their  own  style  of  language. 

"  My  friends/'  said  he,  "I  have  seen  the 
}\iss,  and  have  listened  to  your  words ;  you 
have  little  hearts.  When  troubles  and  dangers 
l?e  in  your  way,  you  turn  your  backs.  That 
is  not  the  way  with  my  nation.  When  great 
obstacles  present,  and  threaten  to  keep  them 
back,  their  hearts  swell,  and  they  push  forward. 
They  love  to  conquer  difficulties.  But  enough 
for  the  present.  Night  is  coming  on  ;  let  us 
return  to  our  camp." 

He  moved  on,  and  they  followed  in  silence. 
On  reaching  the  camp  he  found  the  men  ex- 
tremely discouraged.  One  of  their  number 
had  been  surveying  the  neighborhood,  and 
seriously  assured  them,  that  the  snow  was  at 
least  a  hundred  feet  deep.  The  captain  cheered 
them  up,  and  diffused  fresh  spirit  in  them  by 
his  example.  Still  he  was  much  perplexed 
how  to  proceed.  About  dark  there  was  a  slight 
drizzling  rain.  An  expedient  now  suggested 
itself.  This  was  to  make  two  light  sleds,  place 
the  packs  on  them,  and  drag  them  to  the  other 
side  of  the  mountain,  thus  forming  a  road  in 
the  wet  snow,  which,  should  it  afterwards  freeze 
would  be  sufficiently  hard  to  bear  tht  horses. 
This  plan  was  promptly  put  into  execution ; 


■■if.  ■ 


78 


J3onncpnic*0  BC^vcnturcs 


■I  f 


^i!..     ■'! 


UIH 


m 


the  sleds  were  constructed,  the  heavy  baggage 
was  drawn  backward  and  forward  until  the 
road  was  beaten,  when  they  desisted  from  their 
fatiguing  labor.  The  night  turned  out  clear 
and  cold,  and  by  morning,  their  road  was  in- 
crusted  with  ice  sufficiently  strong  for  their 
purpose.  They  now  set  out  on  their  icy  turn- 
pike, and  got  on  well  enough,  excepting  that 
now  and  then  a  horse  would  sidle  out  of  the 
track,  and  immediately  sink  up  to  the  neck. 
Then  came  on  toil  and  difficulty,  and  they 
would  be  obliged  to  haul  up  the  floundering 
animal  with  ropes.  One,  more  unlucky  than 
the  rest,  after  repeated  falls,  had  to  be  aban- 
doned in  the  snow.  Notwithstanding  these 
repeated  delays,  they  succeeded,  before  the  sun 
had  acquired  sufficient  power  to  thaw  the  snow, 
in  getting  all  the  rest  of  their  horses  safely  to 
the  other  side  of  the  mountain. 

Their  difficulties  and  dangers,  however,  were 
not  yet  at  an  end.  They  had  now  to  descend, 
and  the  whole  surface  of  the  snow  was  glazed 
with  ice.  It  was  necessary,  therefore,  to  wait 
until  the  warmth  of  the  sun  should  m  It  the 
glassy  crust  of  sleet,  and  give  them  a  foothold 
in  the  yielding  snow.  They  had  a  frightful 
warning  of  the  danger  of  any  movement  while 
the  sleet*  remained.  A  wild  young  mare,  in 
her  restlessness,  strayed  to  the  edge  of  the 


Di(ncu[tic0  o(  tbc  Aountatnd 


70 


t 


if  the 


declivity.  One  slip  was  fatal  to  her  ;  she  lost 
her  balance,  careered  with  headlong  velocity 
down  the  slippery  side  of  the  mountain  for 
more  than  two  thousand  feet,  and  was  dashed 
to  pieces  at  the  bottom.  When  the  travellers 
afterwards  sought  the  carcass  to  cut  it  up  for 
food,  they  found  it  torn  and  mangled  in  the 
most  horrible  maimer. 

It  was  quite  late  in  the  evening  before  the 
party  de'scended  to  the  ultimate  skirts  of  the 
snow.  Here'  they  planted  large  logs  below 
them  to  prevent  their  sliding  down,  and  en- 
camped for  the  night.  The  next  day  they 
succeeded  in  bringing  down  their  baggage  to 
the  encampment ;  then  packing  all  up  regularly 
and  loading  their  horses,  they  once  more  set 
out  briskly  and  cheerfully,  and  in  the  course 
of  the  following  day  succeeded  in  getting  to  a 
grassy  region. 

Here  their  Nez  Perce  guides  declared  that 
all  the  difficulties  of  the  mountains  were  at  an 
end,  and  thf ir  course  was  plain  and  simple, 
and  needed  no  further  guidance  ;  they  asked 
leave,  therefore,  to  return  home.  This  was 
readily  granted,  with  many  thanks  and  presents 
for  their  faithful  services.  They  took  a  long 
farewell  smoke  with  their  white  friends,  after 
which,  they  mounted  their  horses  and  set  off 
exchanging  many  farewells  and  kind  wishes. 


I 


m 


80 


JSonncvtUc*0  BOi^enture^ 


^Rha.. 


hi, 


ll;: 


On  the  following  day  Captain  Bonneville 
completed  his  journey  down  the  mountain,  and 
encamped  on  the  borders  of  Snake  River, 
where  he  found  the  grass  in  great  abundance 
and  eight  inches  in  height.  In  this  neighbor- 
hood he  saw  on  the  rocky  banks  of  the  river 
several  prismoids  of  basaltes,  rising  to  the 
height  of  fifty  or  sixty  feet. 

Nothing  particularly  worthy  of  note  occurred 
during  several  days  as  the  party  proceeded  up 
along  Snake  River  and  across  its  tributary 
streams.  After  crossing  Gun  Creek  they  met 
with  various  signs  that  white  people  were  in 
the  neighborhood,  and  Captain  Bonneville 
made  earnest  exertions  to  discover  whether 
they  were  any  of  his  own  people,  that  he  might 
join  them.  He  oon  ascertained  that  they  had 
been  starved  out  of  this  tract  of  country,  and 
had  betaken  themselves  to  the  buiFalo  region, 
whither  he  now  shaped  his  course.  In  pro- 
ceeding along  Snake  River,  he  found  small 
hordes  of  Shoshonies  lingering  upon  the  minor 
streams,  and  living  upon  trout;  and  other  fish, 
which  they  catch  in  great  numbers  at  this  sea- 
son in  fish-traps.  The  greater  part  of  the  tribe, 
however,  had  penetrated  the  mountains  to 
hunt  the  elk,  deer,  and  ahsahto  or  bighorn. 

On  the  1 2th  of  May  Captain  Bonneville 
reached  the  Portneuf  River,  in  the  vicinity  of 


W 


'Return  to  portncuf 


8l 


which  he  had  left  the  winter  encampment  of 
his  company  on  the  preceding  Christmas  day. 
He  had  then  expected  to  be  back  by  the  be- 
ginning of  March,  but  circumstances  had  de- 
tained him  upwards  of  two  months  beyond  the 
time,  and  the  winter  encampment  must  long 
ere  this  have  been  broke  i  up.  Halting  on  the 
banks  of  the  Portneuf,  he  dispatched  scouts  a 
few  miles  above,  to  visit  the  old  camping  ground 
and  search  for  signals  of  the  party,  or  of  their 
whereabouts,  should  they  actually  have  aban- 
doned the  spot.  They  returned  without  being 
able  to  ascertain  anything. 

Being  now  destitute  of  provisions,  the  travel- 
lers found  it  necessary  to  make  a  short  hunting 
excursion  after  buffalo.  They  made  caches^ 
therefore,  in  an  island  in  the  river,  in  which 
they  deposited  all  their  baggage,  and  then  set 
out  on  their  expedition.  They  were  so  fortu- 
nate as  to  kill  a  couple  of  fine  bulls,  and  cutting 
up  the  carcasses,  determined  to  husband  this 
stock  of  provisions  with  the  most  miserly  care, 
lest  they  should  again  be  obliged  to  venture 
into  the  open  and  dangerous  hunting  grounds. 
Returning  to  their  island  on  the  i8th  of  May, 
they  found  that  the  wolves  had  been  at  the 
caches^  scratched  up  the  contents,  and  scattered 
them  in  every  direction.  They  now  constructed 
a  more  secure  one,   in  which  they  deposited 


VOL.  u. — 6 


••  JSonncv(Uc*0  BDv»ciiturc0 

their  heaviest  articles,  ami  then  clescended 
Snake  River  again,  and  encami)ed  just  above 
the  American  Falls.  Here  they  proceeded  to 
fortify  themselves,  intending  to  remain  here, 
and  give  their  horses  an  opportunity  to  recruit 
their  strength  with  good  pasturage,  until  it 
should  be  time  to  set  out  for  the  annual  rendez- 
vous in  Bear  River  Valley. 

On  the  first  of  June  they  descried  four  men  on 
the  other  side  of  the  river,  opposite  to  the  camp, 
and,  having  attracted  their  attention  by  a 
discharge  of  rifles,  ascertained  to  their  joy  that 
they  were  some  of  their  own  people.  From 
these  men  Captain  Bonneville  learnt  that  the 
whole  party  which  he  had  left  in  the  preceding 
month  of  December,  were  encamped  on  Black- 
foot  River,  a  tributary  of  Snake  River,  not 
very  far  above  the  Portneuf.  Thither  he  pro- 
ceeded with  all  possible  dispatch,  and  in  a  little 
while  had  the  pleasure  of  finding  himself  once 
more  surrounded  by  his  people,  who  greeted 
his  return  among  them  in  the  heartiest  manner  ; 
for  his  long-protracted  absence  had  convinced 
them  that  he  and  his  three  companions  had 
been  cut  off  by  some  hostile  tribe. 

The  party  had-  suffered  much  during  his 
absence.  They  had  been  pinched  by  famine 
and  almost  starved,  and  had  been  forced  to  repair 
to  the  caches  at  Salmon  River.     Here  they  fell 


'Reunion  ot  parties 


83 


in  with  the  Black  feet  bands,  and  considered 
themselves  fortunate  in  l)eing  able  to  retreat 
from  the  dangerous  neighborhood  without  sus- 
taining any  loss. 

Being  thus  reunited,  a  general  treat  from 
Captain  Bonneville  to  his  men  was  a  matter  of 
course.  Two  days,  therefore,  were' given  up  to 
such  feasting  and  merriment  as  their  means 
and  situation  afforded.  What  was  wanting  in 
good  cheer  was  made  up  in  good  will ;  the  free 
trappers  in  particular,  distinguished  themselves 
on  the  occasion,  and  the  saturnalia  was  enjoyed 
with  a  hearty  holiday  spirit,  that  smacked  of 
the  game  flavor  of  the  wilderness. 


m 

m 

H  ■ 
»' 

I' 


0  V. 


'    Cbaptcr  IDfff^ 

Departure  for  the  Rendezvous — A  Vv'ar  Party  of  Black- 
feet — A  Mock  Bustle— Sham  Fires  at  Night — War- 
like Precautions — Dangers  of  a  Night  Attack — A 
Panic  among  Horses — A  Mock  Carousal — Skir- 
mishing with  Buffaloes — A  Buffalo  Bait — Arrival 
at  the  Rendezvous — Meeting  of  Various  Bands. 


i|! 


I 


.if'. 


AFTER  the  two  days  of  festive  indulgence, 
Captain  Bonneville  broke  up  the  en- 
campment, and  set  out  with  his  motley 
crew  of  hired  and  free  trappers,  half-breeds, 
Indians,  and  squaws,  for  the  main  rendezvous 
in  Bear  River  Valley.  Directing  his  course 
up  the  Blackfoot  River,  he  soon  reached  the 
hills  among  which  it  takes  its  rise.  Here, 
while  on  the  march,  he  descried  from  the  brow 
of  a  hill,  a  war  party  of  about  sixty  Blackfeet, 
on  the  plain  immediately  below  him.  His 
situation  was  perilous  ;  for  the  greater  part  of 
his  people  were  dispersed  in  various  directions. 
Still,  to  betray  hesitation  or  fear,  would  be  to 
discover  his  actual  weakness,  and  to  invite 

84 


B  Ifboch  JBudtle 


ss 


'fl 


attack.  He  assumed,  instantly,  therefore,  a 
belligerent  tone ;  ordered  the  squaws  to  lead 
the  horses  to  a  small  grove  of  ashen  trees,  and 
unload  and  tie  them  ;  and  caused  a  great  bustle 
to  be  made  by  his  scanty  handful — the  leaders 
ridmg  hither  and  thither,  and  vociferating  with 
all  their  might,  as  if  a  numerous  force  were 
getting  under  way  for  an  attack. 

To  keep  up  the  deception  as  to  his  force,  he 
ordered,  at  night,  a  number  of  extra  fires  to 
be  made  in  his  camp,  and  kept  up  a  vigilant 
watch.  His  men  were  all  directed  to  keep 
themselves  prepared  for  instant  action.  In 
such  cases  the  experienced  trapper  sleeps  in  his 
clothes,  with  his  rifle  beside  him,  the  shot-belt 
and  powder-flask  on  the  stock ;  so  that,  in 
case  of  alarm,  he  can  lay  his  hand  upon  the 
v/hole  of  his  equipment  at  once,  and  start  up, 
completely  armed. 

Captain  Bonneville  was  also  especially  care- 
ful to  secure  the  horses,  and  set  a  vigilant 
guard  upon  them  ;  for  there  lies  the  great 
object  and  principal  danger  of  a  night  attack. 
The  grand  move  of  the  lurking  savage  is  to 
cause  a  panic  among  the  horses.  In  such 
cases  one  horse  frightens  another,  until  all  are 
alarmed,  and  struggle  to  break  loose.  In  camps 
where  there  are  great  numbers  of  Indians,  with 
their  horses,  a  night  alarm  of  the  kind  is  tre- 


86 


JSonnevUle'd  Bdvcnturcs 


; ■;  i 


i 


\       . 


mendous.  The  running  of  the  horses  that 
have  broken  loose  ;  the  snorting,  stamping, 
and  rearing  of  those  which  remain  fast ;  the 
howUng  of  dogs ;  the  yelling  of  Indians  ;  the 
scampering  of  white  men,  and  red  men,  with 
their  guns  ;  the  overturning  of  lodges,  and 
trampling  of  fires  by  the  horses  ;  the  flashes  of 
the  fires,  lighting  up  forms  of  men  and  steeds 
dashing  through  the  gloom,  altogether  make 
up  one  of  the  wildest  scenes  of  confusion 
imaginable.  In  this  way,  sometimes,  all  the 
horses  of  a  camp,  amounting  to  several  hun- 
dred, will  be  frightened  off  in  a  single  night. 

The  night  passed  off  without  r.ny  disturb- 
ance ;  but  there  was  no  likelihood  that  a  war 
party  of  Blackfeet,  once  on  the  track  of  a  camp 
where  there  was  a  chance  for  spoils,  would  fail 
to  hover  round  it.  The  captain,  therefore, 
continued  to  maintain  the  most  vigilant  pre- 
cautions ;  throwing  out  scouts  in  the  advance, 
and  on  every  rising  ground. 

In  the  course  of  the  day  he  arrived  at  the 
plain  of  white  clay,  already  mentioned,  sur- 
rounded by  the  mineral  springs,  called  Beer 
Springs  by  the  trappers.*    Here  the  men  all 

*  In  a  manuscript  journal  of  Mr.  Nathaniel  G. 
Wyeth,  w^'  find  the  following  mention  of  this  water- 
ing-place : 

"There  is  here  a  soda  spring;  or,  I  may  say,  fifty 


B  Aocft  Caroiidc 


87 


halted  to  have  a  regale.  In  a  few  moments 
every  spring  had  its  jovial  knot  of  hard  drinkers, 
with  tin  cup  in  hand,  indulging  in  a  mock 
carouse  ;  quaffing,  pledgiirg,  toasting,  bandy- 
ing jokes,  singing  drinking  songs,  and  uttering 
peals  of  laughter,  until  it  seemed  as  if  their 
imaginations  had  given  potency  to  the  beverage, 
and  cheated  them  into  a  fit  of  intoxication. 
Indeed,  in  the  excitement  of  the  moment,  they 
were  loud  and  extravagant  in  their  commenda- 
tions of  "the  mountain  tap"  ;  elevating  it 
above  every  beverage  produced  from  hops  or 
malt.  It  was  a  singular  and  fantastic  scene, 
suited  to  a  region  where  everything  is  strange 
and  peculiar  :  these  groups  of  trappers,  and 
hunters,  and  Indians,  with  their  wild  costumes, 
and  wilder  countenances  ;  their  boisterous  gay- 
ety,  and   reckless   air ;  quaffing,  and  making 

of  them.  These  springs  throw  out  lime,  which  de- 
posits and  forms  little  hillocks  of  yellowish  colored 
stone.  There  is,  also,  here,  a  warm  spring,  \^>  ich 
throws  out  water  with  a  jet ;  which  is  like  bilge-water 
in  taste.  There  are,  also,  here,  peat  beds,  which  some- 
times take  fire,  and  leave  behind  a  deep,  light  ashes  ; 
in  which  animals  sink  deep.  ...  I  ascended  a 
mountain,  and  from  it  could  see  that  Bear  River  took 
a  short  turn  round  Sheep  Rock.  There  were,  in  the 
plain,  many  hundred  mounds  of  yellowish  stone,  with 
a  crater  on  the  top,  formed  of  the  deposits  of  the  im- 
pregnated water." 


i'  Mti 


r. 


88 


Xonncviiic*B  B^venturcd 


merry  round  these  sparkling  fountains  ;  while 
beside  them  lay  thf  "r  weapons,  ready  to  be 
snatched  up  for  instant  service.  Painters  are 
fond  of  representing'banditti  at  their  rude  and 
picturesque  carousals ;  but  here  were  groups, 
still  more  rude  and  picturesque  ;  and  it  needed 
bill  a  sudden  onset  of  Blackfeet,  and  a  quick 
trat ration  from  a  fantastic  revel  to  a  furious 
iii^lee,  to  have  rendered  this  picture  of  a  trap- 
per 3  life  complete. 

The  beer  frolic,  however,  passed  off  without 
any  untoward  circumstances  ;  and,  unlike  most 
drinking  bouts,  left  neither  headache  nor  heart- 
ache behind.  Captain  Bonneville  now  directed 
his  course  up  along  Bear  River ;  amusing  him- 
self, occasionally,  with  hunting  the  buffalo, 
with  which  the  country  was  covered.  Some- 
times, when  he  saw  a  huge  bull  taking  his  re- 
pose on  a  prairie  J  he  would  steal  along  a  ravine, 
until  close  upon  him ;  th^n  rouse  him  from 
his  meditations  with  a  pebble,  and  take  a  shot 
at  him  as  he  started  up.  Such  is  the  quickness 
with  which  this  animal  springs  upon  his  legs, 
that  it  is  not  easy  to  discover  the  muscular 
process  by  which  it  i»  effected.  The  horse 
ribes  first  upon  his  forelegs  ;  and  the  domestic 
cow  upon  her  hinder  limbs  but  the  buffalo 
lK)unds  at  once  from  a  couchant  to  an  erect 
position,  with  a  celerity  that  baffles  the  eye. 


JSufTnlo  JSaiting 


89 


Though  from  his  bulk  and  rolling  gait  he 
does  not  appear  to  run  with  much  sv^^iftness, 
yet,  it  takes  a  stanch  horso  to  overtake  him, 
when  .  t  full  speed  on  level  ground  ;  and  a 
buffalo  cow  is  still  fleeter  in  her  motion. 

Among  the  Indians  and  half-breeds  of  the 
party,  were  several  admirable  horsemen  arid 
bold  hunters,  who  amused  themselves  with 
a  grotesque  kind  of  buffalo  bait.  Whenever 
they  found  a  huge  bull  in  the  plains,  they  pre- 
pared for  their  teasing  and  barbarous  sport. 
Surrounding  him  on  horseback,  they  would 
discharge  their  arrows. at  him  in  quick  succes- 
sion, goading  him  to  make  an  attack  ;  which, 
with  a  dexterous  movement  of  the  horse,  they 
would  easily  avoid.  In  this  way  they  hovered 
round  him,  feathering  him  with  arrows,  as  he 
reared  and  plunged  aboul,  until  he  was  bristled 
all  over  like  a  porcupine.  When  they  per- 
ceived in  him  signs  of  exhaustion,  aud  he  could 
no  longer  be  provoked  to  make  battle,  they 
would  dismount  from  their  horses,  approach 
him  in  the  rear,  and  seizing  him  by  the  tail, 
jerk  him  from  side  to  side,  and  dra^  him 
backwards,  until  the  frantic  animal,  gathering 
fresh  strength  from  fur}'^,  would  break  from 
them,  and  rush,  with  flashing  eyes  and  a  hoarse 
bellowing,  upon  any  enemy  in  sight ;  but  in  a 
little  while,  his  transient  excitement  at  an  end, 


m  •    ^^ 

rr 

Kl'j 

1 

?:'  ^     n 

• 

ffli:.    :, 


90 


JSonncvillc'e  Bdventures 


would  pitch  headlong  on  the  ground,  and  ex- 
pire. The  arrows  were  then  plucked  forth,  the 
tongue  cut  out  and  preserved  as  a  dainty,  and 
the  carcass  left  a  banquet  for  the  wolves. 

Pursuing  his  course  up  Bear  River,  Captain 
Bonneville  arrived,  on  the  13th  of  June,  at  the 
IvitfV  Snake  Lake ;  where  he  encamped  for 
four  or  five  da^^s,  that  he  might  examine  its 
eho'-cj  and  outlets.  The  latter,  he  found  ex- 
I  reimely  muddy,  and  so  surrounded  by  swamps 
iiiid  quagmires,  that  he  was  obliged  to  construct 
can!>c;^  of  rushes,  with  which  to  explore  them. 
The  mouths  of  all  the  streams  which  fall  into 
this  lake  from  the  west,  are  marshy  and  in- 
considerable ;  but  on  the  east  side  there  is  a 
beautiful  beach,  broken  occasionally  by  high 
and  isolated  bluffs,  which  advance  upon  the 
lake,  and  heighten  the  character  of  the  scenery. 
The  water  is  very  shallow,  but  abounds  with 
trout,  and  other  small  fish. , 

Having  finished  his  survey  of  the  lake.  Cap- 
tain Bonneville  proceeded  on  his  journey,  until 
on  the  banks  of  the  Bear  River,  some  distance 
higher  up,  he  came  upon  the  par.y  which  he 
had  detached  a  year  before,  to  circumambulate 
the  Great  Salt  Lake,  and  ascertain  its  extent, 
and  the  nature  of  its  shores.  They  had  been 
encamped  here  about  twenty  days,  and  were 
greatly  rejoiced  at  meeting  once  more  with 


Great  Salt  Xaltc 


91 


their  comrades,  from  whom  they  had  so  long 
been  separated.  The  first  inquiry  of  Captain 
Bonneville  was  about  the  result  of  their  journey, 
and  the  information  they  had  procured  as  to 
the  Great  Salt  Lake — the  object  of  his  intense 
curiosity  and  ambition.  The  substance  of 
their  report  will  be  found  in  the  following 
chapter. 


Cbapter  If. 


IK' 


Plan  of  the  Salt  Lake  Expedition — Great  Sandy 
Deserts  —  Ogden's  River  —  Trails  and  Smoke,  of 
Lurking  Savages  —  Thefts  at  Night  —  A  Trapper's 
Revenge  —  Alarms  of  a  Guilty  Conscience  —  A 
Murderous  Victory — Califomian  Mountains — Plains 
Along  the  Pacific  —  Arrival  at  Monterey  —  Lower 
California — The  Peninsula— Its  Settlement  by  the 
Jesuits — ^Their  Sway  over  the  Indians — ^Their  Ex- 
pulsion— Ruins  of  a  Missionary  Establishment — 
Upper  California  —  Missions — Their  Power  and 
Policy  —  Resources  of  the  Country — Designs  of 
Foreign  Nations. 

IT  was  on  the  24th  of  July,  in  the  preceding 
year  (1833),  that  the  brigade  of  forty  men 
set  out  from  the  Green  River  Valley,  to 
explore  the  Great  Salt  I^ake.  They  were  to 
make  the  complete  circuit  of  it,  trapping  on 
all  the  streams  which  should  fall  in  their  way, 
and  to  keep  journals  and  make  charts,  cal- 
culated to  impart  a  knowledge  of  the  lake  and 
the  surrounding  country.  All  the  resources 
of  Captain  Bonneville  had  been  tasked  to  fit 


Oreat  Sands  Desert 


out  this  favorite  expedition.  The  countr)' 
lying  to  the  southwest  of  the  mountains,  and 
ranging  down  to  California,  was  as  yet  almost 
unknown  ;  being  out  of  the  buffalo  range,  it 
was  untraversed  by  the  trapper,  who  preferred 
those  parts  of  the  wilderness  where  the  roam- 
ing herds  oi  that  species  of  animal  gave  him 
comparatively  an  abundant  and  luxurious  life. 
Still  it  was  said  the  deer,  the  elk,  and  the  big- 
horn were  to  be  found  there,  so  that,  with  a 
little  diligence  and  economy,  there  was  no 
danger  of  lacking  food.  As  a  precaution, 
however,  the  party  halted  on  Bear  River  and 
hunted  for  a  few  days,  until  they  had  laid  in 
a  supply  of  dried  buffalo  meat  and  venison  ; 
they  then  passed  by  the  head-waters  of  the 
Cassie  River,  and  soon  found  themselves 
launched  on  an  immense  sandv  desert.  South- 
wardly, on  their  left,  they  beheld  the  Great 
Salt  I^ake,  spread  out  like  a  sea,  but  they 
found  no  stream  running  into  it.  A  desert 
extended  around  them,  and  stretched  to  the 
'  southwest,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  rival- 
ling the  deserts  of  Asia  and  Africa  in  sterility. 
There  was  neither  tree  nor  herbage,  nor  spring, 
nor  pool,  nor  rur.ning  stream,  nothing  but 
parched  wastes  of  sand,  where  horse  and  rider 
were  in  danger  of  perishing. 
Their  sufferings  at  length  became  so  great 


94 


JDonncviUc'd  BC^iocnturca 


l\V. 


that  they  abandoned  their  intended  course 
and  made  towards  a  range  of  snowy  mountains, 
biightening  in  the  north,  where  they  hoped  to 
fnid  water.  After  a  time  t^'ey  came  upon  a 
small  stream  leading  directly  towards  these 
mountains.  Having  quenched  their  burning 
thirst,  and  refreshed  themselves  and  their 
weary  horses  for  a  time,  they  kept  along  this 
stream,  which  gradually  increased  in  size, 
being  fed  by  numerous  brooks.  After  ap- 
proaching the  mountains,  it  took  a  sweep 
towards  the  southwest,  and  the  travellers 
still  kept  along  it,  trapping  beaver  as  they 
went,  on  the  flesh  of  which  they  subsisted  for 
the  present,  huslrauding  their  dried  meat  for 
future  necessities. 

The  stream  on  which  they  had  thus  fallen 
is  called  by  some,  Mary  River,  but  is  more 
generally  known  as  Ogden's  River,  from  Mr. 
Peter  Ogden,  an  enterprising  and  intrepid 
leader  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company,  who 
first  explored  it.  The  wild  and  half-desert 
region  through  which  the  travellers  were ' 
passing,  is  wandered  over  by  hordes  of  Shosho- 
koes,  or  Root  Diggers,  the  forlorn  branch  of 
the  Snake  tribe.  They  are  a  shy  people,  prone 
to  keep  aloof  from  the  stranger.  The  travel- 
lers frequently  met  with  their  trails,  and  saw 
the  smoke  of  their  fires  rising  in  various  parts 


Xurf;iim  Savnocd 


95 


of  the  vast  landscape,  so  that  they  knew  there 
were  great  numbers  in  the  neigh lK)rhood,  but 
scarcely  ever  were  any  of  theui  to  be  met  with. 

After  a  time  they  began  to  have  vexatious 
proofs  that  if  the  Shoshokoes  were  q'  t  by 
day,  they  were  busy  at  night.     The  -    is 

dogged    by    these     eavesdroppers ;  a 

morning  but  various  articles  were  .  iK^smg, 
yet  nothing  could  be  seen  of  the  marauders. 
What  particularly  exasperated  the  hunters, 
was  to  have  their  traps  stolen  from  the  streams. 
One  moniing,  a  trapper  of  a  violent  and 
savage  character,  discovering  that  his  traps 
had  been  carried  off  in  the  night,  took  a  horrid 
oath  to  kill  the  first  Indian  he  should  meet, 
innocent  or  guilty.  As  he  was  returning  with 
his  comrades  to  camp,  he  beheld  two  unfortu- 
nate Diggers,  seated  on  the  bank,  fishing. 
Advancing  upon  them,  he  levelled  his  rifle, 
shot  one  upon  the  spot,  and  flung  his  bleeding 
body  into  the  stream.  The  other  Indian  fled, 
and  was  suffered  to  escape.  Such  is  the  indif- 
ference with  which  acts  of  violence  are  regarded 
in  the  wilderness,  and  such  the  immunity  an 
armed  ruffian  enjoys  beyond  the  barriers  of  the 
laws,  that  the  only  punishment  this  desperado 
met  with,  was  a  rebuke  from  the  leader  of 
the  party. 

The  trappers  now  left  the  scene  of   this 


0 


r 
■I 


.v^a^ 


^ 

^^.o. 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


1.1 


11.25 


m  122   1122 
S   1^    III  2£ 


6" 


-^ 


Hiotographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


^ 


v 


k^' 


37 


<^ 


4>.\ 


23  WBT  MAIN  STRUT 

WIBSTIR.N.Y.  UStO 

(716)172-4503 


v\ 


96 


Xow\evillc*6  Bdvcnturcd 


;i 


:.   t 


infamous  tragedy,  and  kept  on  westward, 
down  the  course  of  the  river,  which  wound 
along  with  a  range  of  mountains  on  the  right 
hand,  and  a  sandy,  but  somewhat  fertile  plain, 
on  the  left.  As  they  proceeded,  they  beheld 
columns  of  smoke  rising,  as  before,  in  various 
directions,  which  their  guilty  consciences  now 
converted  into  alarm  signals,  to  arouse  the 
country,  and  collect  the  scattered  bands  for 
vengeance. 

After  a  time  the  natives  began  to  make 
their  appearance,  and  sometimes  in  consider- 
able numbers,  but  always  pacific ;  the  trappers, 
however,  suspected  them  of  deep  laid  plans 
to  draw  them  into  ambuscades  ;  to  crowd  into 
and  get  possession  of  their  camp,  and  various 
other  crafty  and  daring  conspiracies,  which,  it 
is  probable,  never  entered  into  the  heads  of 
the  poor  savages.  In  fact,  the/  are  a  simple, 
timid,  inofifensive  race,  unpracticed  in  warfare, 
and  scarce  provided  with  any  weapons,  except- 
ing for  the  chase.  Their  lives  are  passed  in 
the  g^eat  sand  plains  and  along  the  adjacent 
rivers;  they  subsist  sometimes  on  fish,  at 
other  times  on  roots  and  the  seeds  of  a  plant 
called  the  cat's-tail.  They  are  of  the  same 
kind  of  people  that  Captain  Bonneville  found 
upon  Snake  River,  and  whom  he  found  so 
mild  and  inoffensive. 


B  AurDerou0  Victory 


97 


The  trappers,  however,  had  persuaded 
themselves  that  they  were  making  their  way 
through  a  hostile  country,  and  that  implacable 
foes  hung  round  their  camp  or  beset  their  path, 
watching  for  an  opportunity  to  surprise  them. 
At  length,  one  day  they  came  to  the  banks  of 
a  stream  emptying  into  Ogden's  River,  which 
they  were  obliged  to  ford.  Here  a  great  num- 
ber of  Shoshokoes  were  posted  on  the  opposite 
bank.  Persuaded  they  were  there  with  hostile 
intent,  they  advanced  upon  them,  levelled 
their  rifles,  and  killed  twenty -five  of  them 
upon  the  spot.  The  rest  fled  to  a  short  dis- 
tance, then  halted  and  turned  about,  howl- 
ing and  whining  like  wolves,  and  uttering  the 
most  piteous  wailings.  The  trappers  chased 
them  in  every  direction  ;  the  poor  wretches 
made  no  defense,  but  fled  with  terror ;  neither 
does  it  appear  from  the  accounts  of  the  boasted 
victors,  that  a  weapon  had  been  wielded  or  a 
weapon  launched  by  the  Indians  throughout 
the  affair.  We  feel  perfectly  convinced  that 
the  poor  savages  had  no  hostile  intention,  but 
had  merely  gathered  together  through  motives 
of  curiosity,  as  others  of  their  tribe  had  done 
when  Captain  Bonneville  and  his  companions 
passed  along  Snake  River. 

The  trappers  continued  down  Ogden's  River, 
until  they  ascertained  that  it  lost  itself  in  ^ 


VOL.   II.- 


If 


ill 


1 1 


U'K 


j';f 


I     1 


I  M 


.,i 


M 


98 


Xo\mcvi\{c*e  Bdv^cnturcd 


great  swampy  lake,  to  which  there  was  no  ap- 
parent discharge.  They  then  struck  directly 
westward,  across  the  great  chain  of  Californian 
mountains  intervening  between  these  interior 
plains  and  the  shores  of  the  Pacific. 

For  three  and  twenty  days  they  were  en- 
tangled among  these  mountains,  the  peaks  and 
ridges  of  which  are  in  many  places  covered 
with  perpetual  snow.  Their  passes  and  defiles 
present  the  wildest  scenery,  partaking  of  the 
sublime  rather  than  the  beautiful,  and  abound- 
ing with  frightful  precipices.  The  sufferings 
of  the  travelle-s  among  these  savage  moun- 
tains were  extreme;  for  a  part  of  the  time 
they  were  nearly  starved.  At  length,  they  made 
their  way  through  them,  and  came  down  upon 
the  plains  of  New  California,  a  fertile  region 
extending  along  the  coast,  with  magnificent 
forests,  verdant  savannas,  and  prairies  that 
look  like  stately  parks.  Here  they  found  deer 
and  other  game  in  abundance,  and  indemnified 
themselves  for  past  famine.  They  now  turned 
towards  the  south,  and  passing  numerous 
small  bands  of  natives,  posted  upon  various 
streams,  arrived  at  the  Spanish  vi>lage  and 
post  of  Monterey. 

This  is  a  small  place,  containing  about  two 
hundred  houses,  situated  in  latitude  37®  north. 
It  has  a  capacious  bay,  with  indifferent  anchor- 


Xowct  CaUtornta 


99 


age.  The  surrounding  country  is  extremely 
fertile,  especially  in  the  valleys ;  the  soil  is 
richer  the  further  you  penetrate  into  the  in- 
terior, and  the  climate  is  described  as  a  per- 
petual spring.  liideed,  all  California,  extending 
along  the  Pacific  Ocean  from  latitude  19**  30' 
42®  north,  is  represented  as  one  of  the  most 
fertile  and  beautiful  regions  in  North  Ame  'ica. 
Low?r  California,  in  length  about  seven 
hundred  miles,  forms  a  great  peninsula,  which 
crosses  the  tropics  and  terminates  in  the  torrid 
zone.  It  is  separated  from  the  mainland  by 
the  Gulf  of  California,  sometimes  called  the 
Vermilion  Sea;  into  this  gulf  empties  the 
Colorado  of  the  West,  the  Seeds-ke-dee,  cr 
Green  River,  as  it  is  also  sometimes  called. 
The  peninsula  is  traversed  by  stem  and  barren 
mountains,  and  has  many  sandy  plains,  where 
the  only  sign  of  vegetation  is  the  cylindrical 
cactus  growing  among  the  clefts  of  the  rocks. 
Wherever  there  is  water,  however,  and  vege- 
table mould,  the  ardent  nature  of  the  climate 
quickens  everything  into  astonishing  fertility. 
There  are  valleys  luxuriant  with  the  rich  and 
beautiful  productions  of  the  tropics.  There 
the  sugar-cane  and  indigo  plant  attain  a  per- 
fection unequalled  in  any  other  part  of  North 
America.  There  flourish  the  olive,  the  fig, 
the  date,  the  orange,  the  citron,  the  pomegran- 


11  !  vh 


^ 


loo 


Xonncvillc*6  Bdvcnturcd 


i*?f 


mm 

Pi 


t :  ■  i 


i  M, 


I  14' 


p... 


ate,  and  other  fruits  belonging  to  the  volup- 
tuous climates  of  the  south  ;  with  grapes  in 
abundance,  that  yield  a  generous  wine.  In 
the  interior  are  salt  plains ;  silver  mines  and 
scanty  mines  of  gold  are  said,  likewise,  to  ex- 
ist ;  and  pearls  of  a  beautiful  water  are  to  be 
fished  upon  the  coast. 

The  peninsula  of  California  was  settled  in 
1698,  by  the  Jesuits,  who,  certainly,  as  far  as 
the  natives  were  concerned,  have  generally 
proved  the  most  beneficent  of  colonists.  In 
the  present  instance  they  gained  and  main- 
tained a  footing  in  the  country  without  the  aid 
of  military  force,  but  solely  by  religious  influ- 
ence. They  formed  a  treaty,  and  entered  into 
the  most  amicable  relations  with  the  natives, 
then  numbering  from  twenty-five  to  thirty 
thousand  souls,  and  gained  a  hold  on  their 
affections,  and  a  control  over  their  minds,  that 
effected  a  complete  change  in  their  condition. 
They  built  eleven  missionary  establishments 
in  the  various  valleys  of  the  peninsula,  which 
formed  rallying  places  for  the  surrounding 
savages,  where  they  gathered  together  as 
sheep  into  the  fold,  and  surrendered  themselves 
and  their  consciences  into  the  hands  of  these 
spiritual  pastors.  Nothing,  we  are  told,  could 
exceed  the  implicit  and  affectionate  devotion 
of  the  Indian  converts  to  the  Jesuit  fathers. 


£SPuIdion  of  tbe  ^ceuftd 


lOl 


and  the  Catholic  faith  was  disseminated  widely 
through  the  wilderness. 

The  growing  power  and  influence  of  the 
Jesuits  in  the  New  World,  at  length  excited 
the  jealousy  of  the  Spanish  government,  and 
they  were  banished  from  the  colonies.  The 
governor,  who  arrived  at  California  to  expel 
them,  and  to  take  charge  of  the  country,  ex- 
pected to  find  a  rich  and  powerful  fraternity, 
with  immense  treasures  hoarded  in  their  mis- 
sions, and  an  army  of  Indians  ready  to  defend 
them.  On  the  contrary,  he  beheld  a  few  ven- 
erable silver-haired  priests  coming  humbly 
forward  to  meet  him,  followed  by  a  throng  of 
weeping,  but  submissive  natives.  The  heart 
of  the  governor,  it  is  said,  was  so  touched  by 
this  unexpected  sight,  that  he  shed  tears  ;  but 
he  had  to  execute  his  orders.  The  Jesuits 
were  accompanied  to  the  place  of  their  em- 
barkation by  their  simple  and  affectionate 
parishioners,  who  took  leave  of  them  with 
tears  and  sobs.  Many  of  the  latter  abandoned 
their  hereditary  abodes,  and  wandered  oflf  to 
join  their  southern  brethren,  so  that  but  a 
remnant  remained  in  the  peninsula.  The 
Franciscans  immediately  succeeded  the  Jesuits, 
and  subsequently  the  Dominicans ;  but  the 
latter  managed  their  affairs  ill.  But  two  of 
the  missionary  establishments  are  at  present 


^1 


^y 


I02 


J9onnevtne'0  B^venturc0 


#  •! 


'      ! 


iiM  \i' 


■■^f 


'I     i 


II  ;  I 


!■    !•:; 


!■:' 


;i :  J  .. 


occupied  by  priests ;  the  rest  are  all  in  ruins, 
excepting  one,  which  remains  a  monument  of 
the  former  power  and  prosperity  of  the  order. 
This  is  a  noble  edifice,  once  the  seat  of  the 
chief  of  the  resident  Jesuits.  It  is  situated  in 
a  beautiful  valley,  about  half  way  between  the 
Gulf  of  California  and  the  broad  ocean,  the 
peninsula  being  here  about  sixty  miles  wide. 
The  edifice  is  of  hewn  stone,  one  story  high, 
two  hundred  and  ten  feet  in  front,  and  about 
fifty-five  feet  deep.  The  walls  are  six  feet 
thick,  and  sixteen  feet  high,  with  a  vaulted 
roof  of  stone,  about  two  feet  and  a  half  in 
thickness.  It  is  now  abandoned  and  desolate  : 
the  beautiful  valley  is  without  an  inhabitant — 
not  a  human  being  resides  within  thirty  miles 
of  the  place  ! 

In  approaching  this  deserted  mission  house 
from  the  south,  the  traveller  passes  over  the 
mountain  of  San  Juan,  supposed  to  be  the 
highest  peak  in  the  Califomias.  From  this 
lofty  eminence,  a  vast  and  magnificent  prospect 
unfolds  itself  :  the  great  Gulf  of  California, 
with  the  dark  blue  sea  beyond,  studded  with 
islands ;  and  in  another  direction,  the  immense 
lava. plain  of  San  Gabriel.  The  splendor  of 
the  climate  gives  an  Italian  effect  to  the  im- 
mense prospect.  The  sky  is  of  a  deep  blue 
color,  and  the  sunsets  are  often  magnificent 


Tapper  Caltfornia 


103 


beyond  description.     Such  is  a  slight  and  im- 
perfect sketch  of  this  remarkable  peninsula. 

Upper  California  extends  from  latitude  31° 
10'  to  42®  on  the  Pacific,  and  inland,  to  the 
great  chain  of  snow-capped  mountains  which 
divide  it  from  the  sand  plains  of  the  interior. 
There  are  about  twenty-one  missions  in  this 
province,  most  of  which  were  established  about 
fifty  years  since,  and  are  generally  under  the 
care  of  the  Franciscans.  These  exert  a  pro- 
tecting sway  over  about  thirty-five  thousand 
Indian  converts,  who  reside  on  the  lands 
around  the  mission  houses.  Each  of  these 
houses  has  fifteen  miles  square  of  land  allotted 
to  it,  subdivided  into  small  lots,  proportioned 
to  the  number  of  Indian  converts  attached  to 
the  iT'ssion.  Some  are  inclosed  with  high 
walls ;  but  in  general  they  are  open  hamlets, 
composed  of  rows  of  huts,  built  of  sunburnt 
bricks ;  in  some  instances  whitewashed  and 
roofed  with  tiles.  Many  of  them  are  far  in  the 
interior,  beyond  the  reach  of  all  military  pro- 
tection, and  dependent  entirely  on  the  good 
will  of  the  natives,  which  never  fails  them. 
They  have  made  considerable  progpress  in 
teaching  the  Indians  the  useful  arts.  There 
are  native  tanners,  shoe-makers,  weavers, 
blacksmiths,  stonecutters,  and  other  artificers 
attached  to  each  establishment.     Others  are 


If 


,i,     i 


m 


wn 


u 


J  V  I  ■ 


m 


1    Hi  V 


,.s 


104 


JSonnevilIe'0  Bdventurce 


taught  husbandry,  and  the  rearing  of  cattle 
and  horses  ;  while  the  females  card  and  spin 
wool,  weave,  and  perform  the  other  duties 
allotted  to  their  sex  in  civilized  life.  No  social 
intercourse  is  allowed  between  the  unmarried 
of  the  opposite  sexes  after  working  hours  ;  and 
at  night  they  are  locked  up  in  separate  apart- 
ments, and  the  keys  delivered  to  the  priests. 

The  produce  of  the  lands,  and  all  the  profits 
arising  from  sales,  are  entirely  at  the  disposal 
of  the  priests  ;  whatever  is  not  required  for  the 
support  of  the  misson,  goes  to  augment  a  fund 
which  is  under  their  control.  Hides  and  tallow 
constitute  the  principal  riches  of  the  missions, 
and,  indeed,  the  main  commerce  of  the  coun- 
try. Grain  might  be  produced  to  an  unlimited 
extent  at  the  establishments,  were  there  a 
sufficient  market  for  it.  Olives  and  grapes  are 
also  reared  at  the  missions. 

Horses  and  horned  cattle  abound  throughout 
all  this  region  ;  the  former  may  be  purchased 
at  from  three  to  five  dollars,  but  they  are  of  an 
inferior  breed.  Mules,  which  are  here  of  a 
large  size  and  of  valuable  qualities,  cost  from 
seven  to  ten  dollars. 

There  are  several  excellent  ports  along  this 
coast.  San  Diego,  Santa  Barbara,  Monterey, 
the  Bay  of  San  Francisco,  and  the  northern 
port  of  Bondago  all  afford  anchorage  for  ships 


San  f  rancidco 


105 


of  the  largest  class.  The  port  of  San  Francibco 
is  too  well  known  to  require  much  notice  in 
this  place.  The  entrance  from  the  sea  is  sixty- 
seven  fathoms  deep,  and  within,  whole  navies 
might  ride  with  perfect  safety.  Two  large 
rivers,  which  take  their  rise  in  mountains  two 
or  three  hundred  miles  to  the  east,  and  run 
through  a  country  unsurpassed  for  soil  and 
climate,  empty  themselves  into  the  harbor. 
The  country  around  affords  admirable  timber 
for  ship-building.  In  a  word,  this  favored  port 
combines  advantages  which  not  only  fit  it  for 
a  grand  naval  depot,  but  almost  render  it  capa- 
ble of  being  made  the  dominant  military  post 
of  these  seas. 

Such  is  a  feeble  outline  of  the  Californian 
coast  and  country,  the  value  of  which  is  more 
and  more  attracting  the  attention  of  naval  pow- 
ers. The  Russians  have  always  a  ship  of  war 
upon  this  station,  and  have  already  encroached 
upon  the  Californian  boundaries,  by  talking 
possession  of  the  port  of  Bondago,  and  fortify- 
ing it  with  several  guns.  Recent  surveys  have 
likew^ise  been  made,  both  by  the  Russians  and 
the  English,  and  we  have  little  doubt,  that,  at 
no  very  distant  day,  this  neglected,  and,  until 
recently,  almost  unknown  region,  will  be  found 
to  possess  sources  of  wealth  sufficient  to  sustain 
a  powerful  and  prosperous  empire.    Its  inhabi- 


.  :  I 


106 


JSonncvUIe'0  B^vet1turc0 


I    ■/!: 


tants,  themselves,  are  but  little  aware  of  its 
real  riches ;  they  have  not  enterprise  sufficient 
to  acquaint  themselves  with  a  vast  interior  that 
lies  almost  a  terra  incognita ;  nor  have  they 
the  skill  and  industry  to  cultivate  properly  the 
fertile  tracts  along  the  coast ;  nor  to  prosecute 
that  foreign  commerce  which  brings  all  the 
resources  of  a  country  into  profitable  action. 


B 


i! 


<!-:;' 


Cbaptet  f  • 

Gay  Life  at  Monterey — Mexican  Horsemen — A  Bold 
Dragoon — Use  of  the  Lasso —  Vaqueros — Noosing  a 
Bear— Fight  between  a  Bull  and  a  Bear — Departure 
from  Monterey— Indian  Horse-stealers — Outrages 
Committed  by  the  Travellers— Indignation  of  Cap- 
tain Bonneville. 

THE  wandering  band  of  trappers  were  well 
received  at  Monterey  ;  the  inhabitants 
were  desirous  of  retaining  them  among 
them,  and  offered  extravagant  wages  to  such 
as  were  acquainted  with  any  mechanic  art. 
iWhen  they  went  into  the  country,  too,  they 
were  kindly  treated  by  the  priests  at  the  mis- 
sion, who  are  always  hospitable  to  strangers, 
whatever  may  be  their  rank  or  religion.  They 
had  no  lack  of  provisions,  being  permitted  to 
kill  as  many  as  they  pleased  of  the  vast  herds 
of  cattle  that  graze  the  country,  on  condition, 
merely,  of  rendering  the  hides  to  the  owners. 
They  attended  bull-fights  and  horse-races ; 
forgot  all  the  purposes  of  their  expedition; 


IT: 


ft: 


■h  ' !! 


Mi  " 


I    '   ! 


I 


,)       i 


io8 


Xonncvil{c*B  BDventured 


squandered  away,  freely,  the  property  that  did 
not  belong  to  them  ;  and,  in  a  word,  revelled 
in  a  perfect  fool's  paradise. 

What  especially  delighted  them,  was  the 
equestrian  skill  of  the  Californians.  The  vast 
number  and  the  cheapness  of  the  horses  in  this 
country,  makes  every  one  a  cavalier.  The 
Mexicans  and  half-breeds  of  California,  spend 
the  greater  part  of  their  time  in  the  saddle. 
They  are  fearless  riders ;  and  their  daring  feats 
upon  unbroken  colts  and  wild  horses,  aston- 
ished our  trappers,  though  accustomed  to  the 
bold  riders  of  the  prairies. 

A  Mexican  horseman  has  much  resemblance, 
in  many  points,  to  the  equestrians  of  Old  Spain  ; 
and  especially  to  the  vainglorious  Caballero  of 
Andalusia.  A  Mexican  dragoon,  for  instance, 
is  represented  as  arrayed  in  a  round  blue  jacket, 
with  red  cuffs  and  collar ;  blue  velvet  breeches, 
unbuttoned  at  the  knees  to  show  his  white 
stockings ;  bottinas  of  deer-skin ;  a  round- 
crowned  Andalusian  hat,  and  his  hair  cued. 
On  the  pommel  of  his  saddle,  he  carries  bal- 
anced a  long  musket,  with  fox-skin  round  the 
lock.  He  is  cased  in  a  cuirass  of  double-fold 
deer-skin,  and  carries  a  bull's  hide  shield ;  he 
is  forked  in  a  Moorish  saddle,  high  before  and 
behind;  his  feet  are  thrust  into  wooden  box 
stirrups,  of  Moorish  fashion,  and  a  tremen- 


Ta0e0  of  tbe  Xa00o 


109 


dous  pair  of  iron  spurs,  fastened  by  chains, 
jingle  at  his  heels.  Thus  equipped  and  suit- 
ably mounted,  he  considers  himself  the  glory 
of  California,  and  the  terror  of  the  universe. 

The  Californian  horsemen  seldom  ride  out 
without  the  lasso ;  that  is  to  say,  a  long  coil 
of  cord,  with  a  slip  noose ;  with  which  they 
are  expert,  almost  to  a  miracle.  The  lasso, 
now  almost  entirely  confined  to  Spanish  Amer- 
ica, is  said  to  be  of  great  antiquity ;  and  to 
have  come  originally  from  the  East.  It  was 
used,  we  are  told,  by  a  pastoral  people  of  Per- 
sian descent ;  of  whom  eight  thousand  accom- 
panied the  army  of  Xerxes.  By  the  Spanish 
Americans,  it  is  used  for  a  variety  of  purposes ; 
and  among  others,  for  hauling  wood.  Without 
dismounting,  they  cast  the  noose  round  a  log, 
and  thus  drag  it  to  their  houses.  The  vaque- 
roSy  or  Indian  cattle  drivers,  have  also  learnt 
the  use  of  the  lasso  from  the  Spaniards ;  and 
employ  it  to  catch  the  half-wild  cattle,  by 
throwing  it  round  their  horns. 

The  lasso  is  also  of  great  use  in  furnishing 
the  public  with  a  favorite,  though  barbarous 
sport — ^the  combat  between  a  bear  and  a  wild 
bull.  For  this  purpose,  three  or  four  horse- 
men sally  forth  to  some  wood,  frequented  by 
bears,  and,  depositing  tbe  caicass  of  a  bullock, 
hide  themselves  in  the  vicinity.    The  bears 


1X0 


JSonncvillc'd  BDt>enturc0 


il: 


fe'-.i'         \->K:M 


r:i 


I    i 


r    i 


mf 


1 


are  soon  attracted  by  the  bait.  As  soon  as 
one,  fit  for  their  purpose,  makes  hi^  appear- 
ance, they  run  out,  and  with  the  lasso,  dexter- 
ously noose  him  by  either  leg.  After  dragging 
him  at  full  speed  until  he  is  fatigued,  they 
secure  him  more  effectually;  and  tying  him 
on  the  carcass  of  the  bullock,  draw  him  in 
triumph  to  the  scene  of  action.  By  this  time, 
he  is  exasperated  to  such  frenzy,  that  they  are 
sometimes  obliged  to  throw  cold  water  on  him, 
to  moderate  his  fury  ;  and  dangerous  would  it 
be,  for  horse  or  rider,  were  he,  v/hile  in  this 
paroxysm,  to  break  his  bonds. 

A  wild  bull  of  the  fiercest  kind,  which  has 
been  caught  and  exasperated  in  the  same  man- 
ner, is  now  produced,  and  both  animals  are 
turned  loose  in  the  arena  of  a  small  amphithe- 
atre. The  mortal  fight  begins  instantly ;  and 
always,  at  first  to  the  disadvantage  of  Bruin  ; 
fatigued,  as  he  is,  by  his  previous  rough  riding. 
Roused,  at  length,  by  the  repeated  goring  of 
the  bull,  he  seizes  his  muzzle  with  his  sharp 
claws,  and  clinging  to  this  most  sensitive  part, 
causes  him  to  bellow  with  rage  and  agony. 
In  his  heat  and  fury,  the  bull  lolls  out  his 
tongue  ;  this  is  instantly  clutched  by  the  bear ; 
with  a  desperate  effort  he  overturns  his  huge 
antagonist,  and  then  dispatches  him  without 
diflaculty. 


f  udian  'f)or0c«^t    icte 


III 


Beside  this  diversion,  the  travellers  were 
likewise  regaled  with  bull-fights,  in  the  gen- 
uine style  of  Old  Spain  ;  the  Califomians  being 
considered  the  best  bull-fighters  in  the  Mexican 
dominions. 

After  a  considerable  sojourn  at  Monterey, 
spent  in  these  very  edifying,  but  not  very 
profitable  amusements,  the  leader  of  this  vaga- 
bond party  set  out  with  his  comrades,  on  his 
return  journey.  Instead  of  retracing  their  steps 
through  the  mountains,  they  passed  round 
their  southern  extremity,  and,  crossing  a  range 
of  low  hills,  found  themselves  in  the  sandy 
plains  south  of  Ogden's  River ;  in  traversing 
which,  they  again  suffered  grievously  for  want 
of  water. 

In  the  course  of  their  journey,  they  encount- 
ered a  party  of  Mexicans  in  pursuit  of  a  gang 
of  natives,  who  had  been  stealing  horses. 
The  savages  of  this  part  of  California  are  rep- 
resented as  extremely  poor,  and  armed  only 
with  stone-pointed  arrows  ;  it  being  the  wise 
policy  of  the  Spaniards  not  to  furnish  them 
with  fire-arms.  As  they  find  it  difficult,  with 
their  blunt  shafts,  to  kill  the  wild  game  of  the 
mountains,  they  occasionally  supply  them- 
selves with  food  by  entrapping  the  Spanish 
horses.  Driving  them  stealthily  into  fast- 
nesses and  ravines,  they  slaughter  them  with- 


X£P^ 


f-. 


Pi!  I 

b  M    .1 


'1   i:; 


p;m 


,,.--,  t , 


112 


JSoiinevf(U'0  Bdventurc0 


out  difficulty,  and  dry  their  flesh  for  provisions. 
Some  they  carry  off  to  trade  with  distant  tribes ; 
and  in  this  way,  the  Spanish  horses  pass  from 
hand  to  hand  among  the  Indians,  until  they  even 
find  their  way  ucross  the  Rocky  Mountains. 

The  Mexicans  are  continually  on  the  alert, 
to  intercept  these  marauders  ;  but  the  Indians 
are  apt  to  outwit  them,  and  force  them  to 
make  long  and  wild  expeditions  in  pursuit  of 
their  stolen  horses. 

Two  of  the  Mexican  party  just  mentioned 
joined  the  band  of  trappers,  and  proved  them- 
selves worthy  companions.  In  the  course  of 
their  journey  through  the  country  frequented 
by  the  poor  Root  Diggers,  there  seems  to  have 
been  an  emulation  between  them,  which  could 
inflict  the  greatest  outrages  upon  the  natives. 
The  trappers  still  considered  them  in  the  light 
of  dangerous  foes ;  and  the  Mexicans,  very 
probably,  charged  them  with  the  sin  of  horse- 
stealing ;  we  have  no  other  mode  of  accounting 
for  the  infamous  barbarities  of  which,  ac- 
cording to  their  own  story,  they  were  guilty; 
hunting  the  poor  Indians  like  wild  beasts,  and 
killing  them  without  mercy.  The  Mexicans 
excelled  at  this  savage  sport ;  chasing  their 
unfortunate  victims  at  full  speed;  noosing 
them  round  the  neck  with  their  lassos,  and 
then  dragging  them  to  death  !  '• 


mn 


wn  ;i 


Captain  JQonnevtUe  luDi^nant 


"3 


Such  are  the  scanty  details  of  this  most  dis 
graceful  expedition.  At  least,  such  are  all  that 
Captain  Bonneville  had  the  patience  to  collect  ; 
for  he  was  so  deeply  grieved  by  the  failure  of 
his  plans,  and  so  indignant  at  the  atrocities 
related  to  him,  that  he  turned,  with  disgust 
and  horror,  from  the  narrators.  Had  he  ex- 
erted a  little  of  the  I^ynch  law  of  the  wilder- 
ness, and  hanged  those  dexterous  horsemen 
in  their  own  lassos,  it  would  but  have  been  a 
well-merited  and  salutary  act  of  retributive 
justice.  The  failure  of  this  expedition  was  a 
blow  to  his  pride,  and  a  still  greater  blow  to 
his  purse.  The  Great  Salt  Lake  still  remained 
unexplored ;  at  the  same  time,  the  means 
which  had  been  furnished  so  liberally  to  fit  out 
this  favorite  expedition,  had  all  been  squan- 
dered at  Monterey ;  and  the  peltries,  also, 
which  had  been  collected  on  the  way.  He 
would  have  but  scanty  returns,  therefore,  to 
make  this  year,  to  his  associates  in  the  United 
States ;  and  there  was  great  danger  of  their 
becoming  disheartened,  and  abandoning  the 
enterprise. 

VOL.  II.— 8 


»^r 


Im 


ih     ' 


' 


IL;i 


*■     i    ■ 


ri' 


Cbaptcr  f  f  • 

Travellers*  Tales — ^Indian  I^urkers — Prognostics  of 
Buckeye — Signs  and  Portents — ^The  Medicine  Wolf 
— An  Alarm — An  Ambush — The  Captured  Provant — 
Triumph  of  Buckeye— Arrival  of  Supplies— Grand 
Carouse — Arrangements  for  the  year — Mr.  Wyeth 
and  his  New-Levied  Band. 

TH^  horror  and  indignation  felt  by  Captain 
Bonneville  at  the  excesses  of  the  Cali- 
fornian  adventurers,  were  not  partici- 
pated by  his  men  ;  on  the  contrary,  the  events 
of  that  expedition  were  favorite  themes  in  the 
camp.  The  heroes  of  Monterey  bore  the  palm 
in  all  the  gossipings  among  the  hunters.  Their 
glowing  descriptions  of  Spanish  bear-baits  and 
bull-fights  especially,  were  listened  to  with 
intense  delight ;  and  had  another  expedition 
to  California  been  proposed,  the  difficulty 
would  have  been,  to  restrain  a  general  eager- 
ness to  volunteer. 

The  captain  had  not  been  long  at  the  ren- 
dezvous when  he  perceived,  by  various  signs, 

Z14 


f  iiDfan  Xurftcrd 


"5 


that  Indians  were  lurking  in  the  neighborhood. 
It  was  evident  that  the  Blackfoot  band,  which 
he  had  seen  when  on  his  march,  had  dogged 
his  party,  and  were  intent  on  mischief.  He 
endeavored  to  keep  his  camp  on  the  alert ;  but 
it  is  as  difficult  to  maintain  discipline  among 
trappers  at  a  rendezvous,  as  among  sailors 
when  in  port. 

Buckeye,  the  Delaware  Indian,  was  scandal- 
ized at  this  heedlessness  of  the  hunters  when 
an  enemy  was  at  hand,  and  was  continually 
preaching  up  caution.  He  was  a  little  prone 
to  play  the  prophet,  and  to  deal  in  signs  and 
portents,  which  occasionally  excited  the  merri- 
ment of  his  white  comrades.  He  was  a  great 
dreamer,  and  believed  in  charms  and  talismans, 
or  medicines,  and  could  foretell  the  approach 
of  strangers  by  the  howling  or  barking  of  the 
small  prairie  wolf.  This  animal,  being  driven 
by  the  larger  wolves  from  the  carcasses  left  on 
the  hunting  grounds  by  the  hunters,  follows 
the  trail  of  the  fresh  meat  carried  to  the  camp. 
Here  the  smell  of  the  roast  and  broiled, 
mingling  with  every  breeze,  keeps  them  hover- 
ing about  the  neighborhood,  scenting  every 
blast,  turning  up  their  noses  like  hungry 
hounds,  and  testifying  their  pinching  hunger 
by  long  whiuing  howls,  and  impatient  bark- 
ings.    These  are  interpreted  by  the  supersti- 


if 


mil' 
mil 


i 


f'i 


I  '-  ! 


IlC 


JSonncviUe'd  BDvcnturea 


:iii 

1^!, 

i:ii' 


I       4 


ri 


tious  Indians  into  warnings  that  strangers  are 
at  hand ;  and  one  accidental  coincidence,  Hke 
the  chance  fulfilment  of  an  almanac  prediction, 
is  sufficient  to  cover  a  thousand  failures.  This 
little  whining,  feast-smelling  animal  is,  there- 
fore, called  among  Indians  the  **  medicine 
wolf"  ;  and  such  was  one  of  Buckeye's  infal- 
lible oracles. 

One  morning  early,  the  soothsaying  Delaware 
appeared  with  a  gloomy  countenance.  His  mind 
was  full  of  dismal  presentiments,  whether  from 
mysterious  dreams,  or  the  intimations  of  the 
medicine  wolf,  does  not  appear.  "Danger," 
he  said,  "  was  lurking  in  their  path,  and  there 
would  be  some  fighting  before  sunset."  He 
was  bantered  for  his  prophecy,  which  was  at- 
tributed to  his  having  supped  too  heartily,  and 
been  visited  by  bad  dreams.  In  the  course  of 
the  morning,  a  party  of  hunters  set  out  in 
pursuit  of  buffalo,  taking  with  them  a  mule, 
to  bring  home  the  meat  they  should  procure. 
They  had  been  some  few  hours  absent,  when 
they  came  clattering  at  full  speed  into  camp, 
giving  the  war-cry  of  Blackfeet !  Blackfeet ! 
Every  one  seized  his  weapon,  and  ran  to  leani 
the  cause  of  the  alarm.  It  appeared  that  the 
hunters,  as  they  were  returning  leisurely,  lead- 
ing their  mule,  well  laden  with  prime  pieces  of 
buffalo  meat,  passed  close  by  a  small  stream 


SurprieeD  \>^  JSIacMcct 


"7 


overhung  with  trees,  about  two  miles  from  the 
camp.  Suddenly,  a  party  of  Blackfeet,  who 
lay  in  ambush  among  the  thickets,  sprang  up 
with  a  fearful  yell,  and  discharged  a  volley  at 
the  hunters.  The  latter  immediately  threw 
themselves  flat  on  their  horses,  put  them  to 
their  speed,  and  never  paused  to  look  behind 
until  they  found  themselves  in  camp.  Fortu- 
nately, they  had  escaped  without  a  wound ; 
but  the  mule,  with  all  the  "provant,"  had 
fallen  into  the  liands  of  the  enemy.  This  was 
a  loss,  as  well  as  an  insult,  not  to  be  borne. 
Every  man  sprang  to  horse,  and  with  rifle  in 
hand,  galloped  off"  to  punish  the  Blackfeet,  and 
rescue  the  buffalo  beef.  They  came  too  late  ; 
the  marauders  were  off",  and  all  that  they  found 
of  their  mule  were  the  dents  of  his  hoofs,  as 
he  had  been  conveyed  off"  at  a  round  trot, 
bearing  his  savory  cargo  to  the  hills  to  fur- 
nish the  scampering  savages  with  a  banquet 
of  roast  meat  at  the  expense  of  the  white 
men. 

The  party  returned  to  camp,  balked  of  their 
revenge,  but  still  more  grievously  balked  of 
their  supper.  Buckeye,  the  Delaware,  sat 
smoking  by  his  fire,  perfectly  composed.  As 
the  hunters  related  the  particulars  of  the  attack, 
he  listened  in  silence,  with  unruffled  counte- 
nance, then  pointing  to  the  west,  **  The  sun 


ii8 


JSonnevfIle'0  BDventures 


m  'I; 


n  !i 


,,,  1 


t  > 


Hi  ■ 


h  -B 


i-'ii 


Mr.in 


r.^irrr-    I- 


i^-^ 


:.n 


fiUi 


has  not  yet  set,"  said  he,  "Buckeye  did  not 
dream  Hke  a  fool  1  " 

All  present  now  recollected  the  prediction  of 
the  Indian  at  daybreak,  and  were  struck  with 
what  appeared  to  be  its  fulfilment.  They  called 
to  mind,  also,  a  long  catalogue  of  foregone 
presentiments  and  predictions  made  at  various 
times  by  the  Delaware,  and,  in  their  supersti- 
tious credulity,  began  to  consider  him  a  veritable 
seer  ;  without  thinking  how  natural  it  was  to 
predict  danger,  and  how  likely  to  have  the  pre- 
diction verified  in  the  present  instance,  when 
various  signs  gave  evidence  of  a  lurking  foe. 

The  various  bands  of  Captain  Bonneville's 
company  had  now  been  assembled  for  some 
time  at  the  rendezvous  ;  they  had  had  their  fill 
of  feasting  and  frolicking,  and  all  the  species  of 
wild  and  often  uncouth  merry-making,  which 
invariably  takes  place  on  these  occasions.  Their 
horses,  as  well  as  themselves,  had  recovered 
from  past  famine  and  fatigue,  and  were  again 
fit  for  active  service  ;  and  an  impatience  began 
to  manifest  itself  among  the  men  once  more  to 
take  the  field,  and  set  oflF  on  some  wandering 
expedition. 

At  this  juncture  Mr.  Cerr6  arrived  at  the 
rendezvous  at  the  hea^  of  a  supply  party,  bring- 
ing goods  and  equipments  from  the  States. 
This  active  leader,  it  will  be  recollected,  had 


*l?;*»l: 


p 


Brrival  or  Supplied 


119 


embarked  the  year  previously  in  skin-boats  on 
the  Bighorn,  freighted  with  the  year's  collection 
of  peltries.  He  had  met  with  misfortunes  in 
the  course  of  his  voyage  ;  one  of  his  frail  barks 
being  upset,  and  part  of  the  furs  lost  or  dam- 
aged. 

The  arrival  of  supplies  gave  the  regular  fin- 
ish to  the  annual  revel.  A  grand  outbreak  of 
wild  debauch  ensued  among  the  mountaineers 
— drinking,  dancing,  swaggering,  gambling, 
quarrelling,  and  fighting.  Alcohol,  which, 
from  its  portable  qualities,  containing  the  great- 
est quantity  of  fiery  spirit  in  the  smallest 
compass,  is  the  only  liquor  carried  across  the 
mountains,  is  the  inflammatory  beverage  at 
these  carousals,  and  is  dealt  out  to  the  trappers 
at  four  dollars  a  pint.  When  inflamed  by  this 
fiery  beverage,  they  cut  all  kinds  of  mad  pranks 
and  gambols,  «»nd  sometimes  burn  all  their 
clothes  in  their  drunken  bravadoes.  A  camp, 
recovering  from  one  of  these  riotous  revels, 
presents  a  serio-comic  spectacle ;  black  eyes, 
broken  heacis,  lack-lustre  visages.  Many  of  the 
trappers  have  squandered  in  one  drunken  frolic 
the  hard-earned  wages  of  a  year  ;  some  have 
run  in  debt,  and  must  toil  on  to  pay  for  past 
pleasure.  All  are  sated  with  this  deep  draugiit 
of  pleasure,  and  eager  to  commence  another 
trapping  campaign ;    for  hardship  and  hard 


Hjpjr) 

-1 

\ 

'■■"■ 

1 

If 

12U 


J3onncvillc'd  BDvciiturcd 


V 


.  M  ' 

f^ 

f 

1  ■: 

; 

(  -  ■) 

;;  ;■.'■'  1 
f 

1- 
1  ■■ 

Vr 

•'i 


work,  spiced  with  the  stimulants  of  wild  ad- 
venture, and  topped  off  with  an  annual  frantic 
carousal,  is  the  lot  of  the  restless  trapper. 

The  captain  now  made  his  arrangements  for 
the  current  year.  Cerrd  and  Walker,  with  a 
number  of  men  who  had  been  to  California, 
were  to  proceed  f  o  St.  Louis  with  the  packages 
of  furs  collected  during  the  past  year.  Another 
party,  headed  by  a  leader  named  Montero,  was 
to  proceed  to  the  Crow  country,  trap  upon  its 
various  streams,  and  among  the  Black  Hills 
and  thence  to  proceed  to  the  Arkansas,  where 
he  was  to  go  into  winter  quarters. 

The  captain  marked  out  for  himself  a  widely 
different  course.  He  intended  to  make  another 
expedition,  with  twenty-three  men,  to  the 
lower  part  of  the  Columbia  River,  and  to  pro- 
ceed to  the  valley  of  the  Multnoniiih.  After 
wintering  in  those  parts,  and  establishing  a 
trade  with  those  tribes,  among  whom  he  had 
sojourned  on  his  first  visit,  he  would  return  in 
the  spring,  cross  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and 
join  Monten  and  his  party  in  thfe  month  of 
July,  at  the  rendezvous  of  the  Arkansas ;  where 
he  expected  to  receive  his  annual  supplies  from 
the  States. 

If  the  reader  will  cast  his  eye  upon  a  map, 
he  may  form  in  idea  of  the  contempt  for  dis- 
tance which  a  m&xi  acquires  in  this  vast  wil- 


us  m 
iViid 


£lpcOttion  o(  nasctb 


121 


(lemess,  by  noticing  the  extent  of  country 
comprised  in  these  projected  wantfcriugs  Just 
as  the  :!ifferent  parties  were  aVMnit  to  set  out 
on  the  3d  of  July,  on  their  opposite  routes, 
Captain  Bonneville  received  intelligei.ee  that 
Wyeth,  the  indefatigable  leader  of  the  salnion- 
Hshing  enterprise,  who  had  parted  with  hir.i 
about  a  year  prevoi  sly  on  the  banks  of  the 
Bighorn,  to  dosccnd  uiat  wild  river  in  a  bull- 
boat,  was  iiear  a^  riand,  with  a  new  levied  band 
of  huntt.'  1  and  trappers,  and  was  on  his  way 
once  more  to  the  banks  of  the  Columbia., 

As  we  take  much  interest  in  the  novel  enter- 
prise of  this  "  Eastern  man,'*  and  are  pleased 
with  his  pushing  and  persevering  spirit ;  and 
as  his  movements  are  characteristic  of  life  in 
the  wilderness,  we  will,  with  the  reader's  per- 
mission, while  Captain  Bonneville  is  breaking 
up  his  camp  and  saddling  his  horses,  step  back 
a  year  in  time,  and  a  few  hundred  miles  in 
distance,  to  the  bank  of  the  Bighorn,  and 
launch  ourselves  with  V/yeth  in  his  bull  boat ; 
and  though  his  adventurous  voyage  will  take 
us  many  hundreds  of  miles  further  down  wild 
nud  wandering  rivers,  yet  such  is  the  magic 
;  «wer  01  the  pen,  that  we  promise  to  bring  the 
reader  safe  back  to  Bear  River  Valley,  by  the 
time  the  last  horse  is  saddled. 


Vis     I 


ru: 


i  ,:  < 


I 


flbapter  fUl. 

V  A.  Voyage  in  a  Bull-Boat 

T  was  about  the  middle  of  August  (1833) 
that  Mr.  Nathaniel  J.  Wyeth,  as  the 
reader  may  recollect,  launched  his  bull- 
boat  at  the  foot  of  the  rapids  of  the  Bighorn, 
and  departed  in  advance  of  the  parties  of 
Campbell  and  Captain  Bonneville.  His  boat 
was  made  of  three  buffalo  skins,  stretched  on 
a  light  frame,  stitched  together,  and  the  seams 
payed  with  elk  tallow  and  ashes.  It  was 
eighteen  feet  long,  and  about  five  feet  six 
inches  wide,  sharp  at  each  end,  with  a  round 
bottom,  and  drew  about  a  foot  and  a  half  of 
water  ;  a  depth  too  great  for  these  upper  rivers, 
which  abound  with  shallows  and  sand-bars. 
The  crew  consisted  of  two  half-breeds,  who 
claimed  to  be  white  men,  though  a  mixture  of 
the  French  Creole  and  the  Shawnee  and  Pota- 
wattomie.  They  claimed,  moreover,  to  be 
thorough  mountaineers,  and  first-rate  hunters 

xaa 


fr!  :        '  t 


Zbc  3Boat  and  itd  Crew 


123 


— the  common  boast  of  these  vagabonds  of  the 
wilderness.  Besides  these,  there  was  a  Nez 
Perce  lad  of  eighteen  years  of  age,  a  kind  of 
servant  of  all  work,  w^hose  great  aim,  like  all 
Indian  servants,  was  to  do  as  little  work  as 
possible.  There  was,  moreover,  a  half-breed 
boy,  of  thirteen,  named  Baptiste,  son  of  a 
Hudson's  Bay  trader  by  a  Flathead  beauty  ; 
who  was  travelling  with  Wyeth  to  see  the 
world  and  complete  his  education.  Add  to 
these  Mr.  Milton  Sublette,  who  went  as  pas- 
senger, and  we  have  the  crew  of  the  little  bull- 
boat  complete. 

It  certainly  was  a  slight  armament  with 
which  to  run  the  gauntlet  through  countries 
swarming  with  hostile  hordes,  and  a  slight 
bark  to  navigate  these  endless  rivers,  tossing 
and  pitching  down  rapids,  running  on  snags 
and  bumping  on  sand-bars ;  such,  however, 
are  the  cockle-shells  with  which  these  hardy 
rovers  of  the  wilderness  will  attempt  the  wild- 
est streams ;  and  it  is  surprising  what  rough 
shocks  and  thumps  these  boats  will  endure, 
and  what  vicissitudes  they  will  live  through. 
Their  duration,  however,  is  but  limited  ;  they 
require  frequently  to  be  hauled  out  of  the  water 
and  dried,  to  prevent  the  hides  from  becoming 
water-soaked  ;  and  they  eventually  rot  and  go 
to  pieces. 


Vil 


m 


124 


JBonnevillc'a  Bdvcnturea 


hi 


The  course  of  the  river  was  a  little  to  the 
north  of  east ;  it  ran  about  five  miles  an  hour, 
over  a  gravelly  bottom.  The  banks  were 
generally  alluvial,  and  thickly  grown  with 
cotton-wood  trees,  intermingled  occasionally 
with  ash  and  plum  trees.  Now  and  then 
limestone  cliffs  and  promontories  advanced 
upon  the  river,  making  picturesque  headlands. 
Beyond  the  woody  borders  rose  ranges  of 
naked  hills. 

Milton  Sublette  was  the  Pelorus  of  this  ad- 
venturous bark  ;  being  somewhat  experienced 
in  this  wild  kind  of  navigation.  It  required 
all  his  attention  and  skill,  however,  to  pilot 
her  clear  of  sand-bars  and  snags,  or  sunken 
trees.  There  was  often,  too,  a  perplexity  of 
choice,  where  the  river  branched  into  various 
channels,  among  clusters  of  islands  ;  and  oc- 
casionally the  voyagers  found  themselves 
aground  and  had  to  turn  back. 

It  was  necessary,  also,  to  keep  a  wary  eye 
upon  the  land,  for  they  were  passing  through 
the  heart  of  the  Crow  country,  and  were  con- 
tinually in  reach  of  any  ambush  that  might  be 
lurking  on  shore.  The  most  formidable  foes 
that  they  saw,  however,  were  three  grizzly 
bears,  quietly  promenading  along  the  bank, 
who  seemed  to  gaze  at  them  with  surprise  as 
they  glided  by.     Herds  of  buffalo,  also,  were 


^^1   i 


Crow  InMans  2>c0cried 


125 


moving  about,  or  lying  on  the  ground,  like 
cattle  in  a  pasture.  Excepting  such  inhabitants 
as  these,  a  perfect  solitude  reigned  over  the 
land.  There  was  no  sign  of  human  habita- 
tion ;  for  the  Crows,  as  we  have  already  shown, 
are  a  wandering  people,  a  race  of  hunters  and 
warriors,  who  live  in  tents  and  on  horseback, 
and  are  continually  on  the  move. 

At  night  they  landed,  hauled  up  their  boat 
to  dry,  pitched  their  tent,  and  made  a  rousing 
fire.  Then,  as  it  was  the  first  evening  of  their 
voyage,  they  indulged  in  a  regale,  relishing 
their  buffalo  beef  with  inspiring  alcohol ;  after 
which  they  slept  soundly,  without  dreaming 
of  Crows  or  Blackfeet.  Early  in  the  morning, 
they  again  launched  their  boat  and  committed 
themselves  to  the  stream. 

In  this  way,  they  voyaged  for  two  days 
without  any  material  occurrence,  excepting  a 
severe  thunder-storm,  which  compelled  them 
to  put  to  shore,  and  wait  until  it  was  past. 
On  the  third  morning,  they  descried  some  per- 
sons at  a  distance  on  the  river  bank.  As  they 
were  now,  by  calculation,  at  no  great  distance 
from  Fort  Cass,  a  trading  post  of  the  American 
Fur  Company,  they  supposed  these  might  be 
some  of  its  people.  A  nearer  approach  showed 
them  to  be  Indians.  Descrying  a  woman  apart 
from  the  rest,  they  landed  and  accosted  her. 


P     ^ 


xa6 


XonncviUc*6  BDvcnturea 


I'll: 


'•in 

ij 
III 


^  .: 


t       !■ 


She  informed  them  that  the  main  force  of  the 
Crow  nation,  consisting  of  five  bands,  under 
their  several  chiefs,  were  but  two  or  three  miles 
below,  on  their  way  up  along  the  river.  This 
was  unpleasant  tidings,  but  to  retreat  was  im- 
possible, and  the  river  afforded  no  hiding-place. 
They  continued  forward,  therefore,  trusting 
that,  as  t^ort  Cass  was  so  near  at  hand,  the 
Crows  might  refrain  from  any  depredations. 

Floating  down  about  two  miles  further,  they 
came  in  sight  of  the  first  band,  scattered  along 
the  river  bank,  all  well  mounted ;  some  armed 
with  guns,  others  with  bows  and  arrows,  and 
a  few  with  lances.  They  made  a  wildly  pictur- 
esque appearance,  managing  their  horses  with 
dccustomed  dexterity  and  grace.  Nothing 
can  be  more  spirited  than  a  band  of  Crow  cav- 
aliers. They  are  a  fine  race  of  men,  averaging 
six  feet  in  height,  lithe  and  active,  with  hawk's 
eyes  and  Roman  noses.  The  latter  feature  is 
common  to  the  Indians  on  the  east  side  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains ;  those  on  the  western  side 
have  generally  straight  or  flat  noses. 

Wyeth  would  fain  have  slipped  by  this  cav- 
alcade unnoticed  ;  but  the  river,  at  this  place, 
was  not  more  than  ninety  yards  across  ;  he 
was  perceived,  therefore,  and  hailed  by  the 
vagabond  warriors,  and  we  presume,  in  no 
very  choice  language  ;  for,  among  their  other 


CrovK^  Ctt^ilttied 


•  -I 


f    I 


accomplishments,    the   Crows    are   famed   for 
possessing  a  Billingsgate  vocabulary  of  unri- 
valled opulence,  and  for  being  by  no  means 
sparing  of   it  whenever    an   occasion   offers. 
Indeed,    though   Indians    are   generally  very 
lofty,  rhetorical,  and  figurative  in  their  lan- 
guage at  all  great  talks  and  high  ceremonials, 
yet,  if  trappers  and  traders  may  be  believed, 
they  are  the  most  unsavory  vagabonds  in  their 
ordinary  colloquies.    They  make  no  hesitation 
to  call  a  spade  a  spade ;  and  when  they  once 
undertake  to  call  hard  names,  the  famous  pot 
and  kettle,  of  vituperating  memory,  are  not  to 
be  compared  with  them  for  scurrility  of  epithet. 
To  escape  the  infliction  of  any  compliments 
of  the  kind,  or  the  launching,  peradventure, 
of   more  dangerous  missiles,   Wyeth  landed 
with  the   best  grace  in   hio  power,  and   ap- 
proached the  chief  of  the  band.     It  was  Ara- 
pooish,  the  quondam  friend  of  Rose  the  outlaw, 
and  one  whom  we  have  already  mentioned  as 
being  anxious  to  promote  a  friendly  intercourse 
between  his  tribe  and  the  white  men.     He  was 
a  tall,  stout  man,  of  good  presence,   and  re- 
ceived   the    voyagers  very   graciously.      His 
people,  too,  thronged  around  them,  and  were 
officiously  attentive   after  the   Crow   fashion. 
One  took  a  great  fancy  to  Baptiste,  the  Flat- 
head boy,  and  a  still  greater  fancy  to  a  ring 


SI 


12S 


Xo\mcvi\lc*e  Bdventurcc 


on  his  finger,  which  he  transposed  to  his  own 
with  surprising  dexterity,  and  then  disappeared 
with  a  quick  step  among  the  crowd. 

Another  was  no  less  pleased  with  the  Nez 
Percd  lad,  and  nothing  would  do  but  he  must 
exchange  knives  with  him ;  drawing  a  new 
knife  out  of  the  Nez  Percy's  scabbard,  and 
putting  an  old  one  in  its  place.  Another 
stepped  up  and  replaced  this  old  knife  with 
one  still  older,  and  a  third  helped  himself  to 
knife,  scabbard,  and  all.  It  was  with  much 
difficulty  that  Wyeth  and  his  companions  ex- 
tricated themselves  from  the  clutches  of  these 
officious  Crows,  before  they  were  entirely 
plucked. 

Falling  down  the  river  a  little  further,  they 
came  in  sight  of  the  second  band,  and  sheered 
to  the  opposite  side,  with  the  intention  of  pass- 
ing them.  The  Crows  were  not  to  be  evaded. 
Some  pointed  their  guns  at  the  boat,  and 
threatened  to  fire.;  others  stripped,  plunged 
into  the  stream,  and  came  swimming  across. 
Making  a  virtue  of  necessity,  Wyeth  threw  a 
cord  to  the  first  that  came  within  reach,  as  if 
he  wished  to  be  drawn  to  the  shore. 

In  this  way  he  was  overhauled  by  every 
band,  and  by  the  time  he  and  his  people  came 
out  of  the  busy  hands  of  the  last,  they  were 
eased  of  most  of  their  superfluities.     Nothing. 


Xand  ptratcd 


129 


in  all  probability,  but  the  proximity  of  the 
American  trading  post,  kept  these  land  pirates 
from  making  a  good  prize  of  the  bull-boat  and 
all  its  contents. 

These  bands  were  in  full  march,  equipped 
for  war,  and  evidently  full  of  mischief.  They 
were,  in  fact,  the  very  bands  that  overrun  the 
land  in  the  autumn  of  1833 ;  partly  robbed 
Fitzpatrick  of  his  horses  and  effects  ;  hunted 
and  harassed  Captain  Bonneville  and  his  peo- 
ple ;  broke  up  their  trapping  campaigns,  and, 
in  a  word,  drove  them  all  out  of  the  Crow 
country.  It  has  been  suspected  that  they, 
were  set  on  to  these  pranks  by  some  of  the 
American  Fur  Company,  anxious  to  defeat 
the  plans  of  their  rivals  of  the  Rocky  Mountain 
Company  :  for  at  this  time  their  competition  was 
at  its  height,  and  the  trade  of  the  Crow  country 
was  a  great  object  of  rivalry.  What  makes  this 
the  more  probable  is,  that  the  Crovrs  in  their 
depredations  seemed  by  no  means  blood-thirsty, 
but  intent  chiefly  on  robbing  the  parties  of 
their  traps  and  horses,  thereby  disabling  them 
from  prosecuting  their  hunting. 

Wc  should  observe  that  this  year  the  Rocky 
Mountain  Company  were  pushing  their  way 
up  the  rivers,  and  establishing  rival  posts  near 
those  of  the  American  Company ;  and  that, 
at  the  very  time  of  which  we  are  speaking, 

VOL.  11,-9 


E- 


130 


3$onncvilic*0  BOvcuturce 


['■  I 


i'ii 


■|l  !l 


iii' 


i'i 


Captain  Sublette  was  ascending  the  Yellow- 
stone with  a  keel  boat,  laden  with  supplies  ; 
GO  that  there  was  every  prospect  of  this  eager 
rivalship  being  carried  to  extremities. 

The  last  band  of  Crow  warriors  had  scarce 
disappeared  in  the  cloud  of  dust  they  had 
raised,  when  our  voyagers  arrived  at  the 
mouth  of  the  river,  and  glided  into  the  current 
of  the  Yellowstone.  Turning  down  this  stream, 
they  made  for  Fort  Cass,  which  is  situated  on 
the  right  bank,  about  three  miles  below  the 
Bighorn.  On  the  opposite  side,  they  beheld 
a  party  of  thirty -one  savages,  which  they  soon 
ascertained  to  be  Blackfeet.  The  width  of 
the  river  enabled  them  to  keep  at  a  sufficient 
distance,  and  they  soon  landed  at  Fort  Cass. 
This  was  a  mere  fortification  against  Indians— 
being  a  stockade  of.  about  one  hundred  and 
thirty  feet  square,  with  two  bastions  at  the 
extreme  corners.  M'TuUoch,  an  agent  of  the 
American  Company,  was  stationed  there  with 
twenty  men  ;  two  boats  of  fifteen  tons  burden 
were  lying  here  ;  but  at  certain  seasons  of  the 
year  a  steamboat  can  come  up  to  the  fort. 

They  had  scarcely  arrived,  when  the  Black- 
feet  warriors  made  their  appearance  on  the 
opposite  bank,  displaying  two  American  flags 
in  token  of  amity.  They  plunged  into  the 
river,  swam  across,  and  were  kindly  received  at 


JSIaclitcct  f  nOian0 


131 


the  fort.  They  were  some  of  the  very  men 
who  had  been  engaged  the  year  previously  in  the 
battle  at  Pierre's  Hole,  and  a  fierce  looking  set 
of  fellows  they  were — tall  and  hawk-nosed,  and 
very  much  resembling  the  Crows.  They  pro- 
fessed to  be  on  an  amicable  errand,  to  make 
peace  with  the  Crows,  and  set  off  in  all  haste, 
before  night,  to  overtake  them.  Wyetli  pre- 
dicted that  they  would  lose  their  scalps,  for  he 
had  heard  the  Crows  denounce  vengeance  on 
them,  for  having  murdered  two  of  their  war- 
riors who  had  ventured  among  them  on  the 
faith  of  a  treaty  of  peace.  It  is  probable,  how- 
ever, that  this  pacific  errand  was  all  a  preterxe, 
and  that  the  real  object  of  the  Blackfeet  braves 
was  to  hang  about  the  skirts  of  the  Crow  bands, 
steal  their  horses,  and  take  the  scalps  of  strag- 
glers. 

At  Fort  Cass,  Mr.  Wyeth  disposed  of  some 
packages  of  beaver,  and  a  quantity  of  buffalo 
robes.  On  the  following  morning  (August 
1 8th),  he  once  more  launched  his  bull-boat, 
and  proceeded  down  the  Yellowstone,  which 
inclined  in  an  east-northeast  direction.  The 
river  had  alluvial  bottoms,  fringed  with  great 
quantities  of  the  sweet  cotton- wood,  anl  in- 
terrupted occasionally  by  ** bluffs"  of  sand- 
stone. The  current  occasionally  brings  down 
firagments  of  granite  and  porphyry. 


li      }i 


m^ 

'" 


13a 


3Doitnevlllc'0  BOvcnturcd 


1  i  I 


M 


!ii 


i'  ■■ 


In  the  course  of  the  day,  they  sawsoinethin«; 
moving  on  the  bank  among  the  trees,  whicli 
they  mistook  for  game  of  some  kind  ;  and, 
being  in  want  of  provisions,  pulled  towards 
shore.  They  discovered,  just  in  time,  a  party 
of  Blackfeet,  lurking  in  the  thickets,  and 
sheered,  with  all  speed,  to  the  opposite  side  of 
the  river. 

After  a  time  they  came  in  sight  of  a  gang  of 
elk.  Wyeth  was  immediately  persuing  them, 
rifle  in  hand,  but  saw  evident  signs  of  dissatis- 
faction in  his  half-breed  hunters,  who  con- 
sidered him  as  trenching  upon  their  province, 
and  meddling  with  things  quite  above  his 
capacity  ;  for  these  veterans  of  the  wilderness 
are  exceedingly  pragmatical  on  points  of  venery 
and  woodcraft,  and  tenacious  of  their  superi- 
ority, looking  down  with  infinite  contempt 
upon  all  raw  beginners.  The  two  worthies, 
therefore,  sallied  forth  themselves,  but  after  a 
time,  returned  empty-handed.  They  laid  the 
blame,  however,  entirely  on  their  guns,  two 
miserable  old  pieces  with  flint  locks,  which 
with  all  their  picking  and  hammering,  were 
continually  apt  to  miss  fire.  These  great 
boasters  of  the  wilderness,  however,  are  very 
often  exceeding  bad  shots,  and  fortunate  it  is 
for  them  when  they  have  old  flint  guns  to  bear 
the  blame. 


pragmattcal  1)iintcrd 


133 


The  next  day  they  passed  where  .1  great  herd 
of  buffalo  were  bellowing  on  a  prairie.  Again 
the  Castor  and  Pollnx  of  the  wilderness  sallied, 
and  again  their  flint  guns  were  at  fault,  and 
missed  fire,  and  nothing  went  off  but  the 
buffalo. 

Wyeth  now  found  there  was  danger  of  losing 
his  dinner  if  he  depended  upon  his  hunters ; 
he  took  rifle  in  hand,  therefore,  and  went  forth 
bimself.  In  the  course  of  an  hour,  he  returned 
laden  with  buffalo  meat,  to  the  great  morti- 
fication of  the  two  regular  hunters,  who  were 
annoyed  at  being  eclipsed  by  a  greenhorn. 

All  hands  now  set  to  work  to  prepare  t!ie 
mid-day  repast.  A  fire  was  made  under  an 
immense  cotton-wood  tree,  that  overshadowed 
a  beautiful  piece  of  meadow  Ian  1  ;  rich  morsels 
of  buffalo  hump  were  Soon  roasting  before  it. 
In  a  hearty  and  prolonged  repast,  the  two  un- 
successful hunters  gradually  recovered  from 
their  mortification,  threatened  to  discard  their 
old  flint  guns  as  soon  as  they  should  reach  the 
settlements,  and  boasted  more  than  ever  of  the 
wonderful  shots  they  had  made,  when  they  had 
guns  that  never  missed  fire. 

Having  hauled  up  their  boat  to  dry  in  the 
sun,  previous  to  making  their  repast,  the 
voyagers  now  set  it  once  more  afloat,  and  pro- 
ceeded on  their  way.     They  had  constructed  a 


J     II 


lit 


134 


Xonncviilc*B  U^vcnttxtce 


!M 


'V 


sail  out  of  their  old  tent,  which  they  hoisted 
whenever  the  wind  was  favorable,  and  thus 
skimmed  along  down  the  stream.  Their  voy- 
age was  pleasant  notwithstanding  the  perils  by 
sea  and  land,  with  which  they  were  environed. 
Whenever  they  could,  they  encamped  on 
islands,  for  the  greater  security.  If  on  the 
mainland,  and  in  a  dangerous  neighborhood, 
they  would  shift  their  camp  after  dark,  leaving 
their  fire  burning,  dropping  down  the  river 
some  distance,  and  making  no  fire  at  their 
second  encampment.  Sometimes  they  would 
float  all  night  with  the  current,  one  keeping 
watch  and  steering  while  the  rest  slept.  In 
such  case,  they  would  haul  their  boat  on  shore 
at  noon  of  the  following  day  to  dry  ;  for  not- 
withstanding every  precaution,  she  was  gradu- 
ally getting  water-soaked  and  rotten. 

There  was  something  pleasiiigly  solemn  and 
mysterious  in  thus  floating  down  these  wild 
rivers  at  night.  The  purity  of  the  atmosphere 
in  these  elevated  regions  gave  additional  splen- 
dor to  the  stars,  and  heightened  the  magnifi- 
cence of  the  firmament.  The  occasional  rush 
and  laving  of  the  waters  ;  the  vague  sounds 
from  the  surrounding  wilderness ;  the  dreary 
howl,  or  rather  whine  of  wolves  from  the 
plains  ;  the  low  grunting  and  bellowing  of  the 
buflalo,  and  the  shrill  neighing  of  the  elk, 


JSalO  £aai€i» 


135 


struck  the  ear  with  an  effect  unknown  in  the 
daytime. 

The  two  knowing  hunters  had  scarcely  re- 
covered from  one  mortification,  when  they  were 
fated  to  experience  another.  As  the  boat,  was 
gliding  swiftly  round  a  low  promontory,  thinly 
covered  with  trees,  one  of  them  gave  the  alarm 
of  Indians.  The  boat  was  instantly  shoved 
from  shore,  and  every  one  caught  up  his  rifle. 
*'  Where  are  they  ?  "  cried  Wyeth. 

*'  There — there  !  riding  on  horseback  !  " 
cried  one  of  the  hunters. 

"Yes;  with  white  scarfs  on!"  cried  the 
other. 

Wyeth  looked  in  the  direction  they  pointed, 
but  descried  nothing  but  two  bald  eagles, 
perched  on  a  low  dry  branch,  beyond  the  thick- 
ets, and  seeming,  from  the  rapid  motion  of  the 
boat,  to  be  moving  swiftly  in  an  opposite  di- 
rection. The  detection  of  this  blunder  in  the 
two  veterans,  who  prided  themselves  on  the 
sureness  and  quickness  of  their  sight,  produced 
a  hearty  laugh  at  their  expense,  and  put  an 
end  to  their  vauntings. 

The  Yellowstone,  above  the  confluence  of 
the  Bighorn,  is  a  clear  stream  ;  its  waters  were 
now  gradually  growing  turbid,  and  assuming 
the  yellow  clay  color  of  the  Missouri.  The 
current  was  about  four  miles  an  hour,  with  oc- 


I      1! 


n  '' 


136 


J8onncriUc'0  Bdvcnturcd 


casional  rapids,  some  of  them  dangerous  ;  but 
the  voyagers  passed  them  all  without  accident. 
The  banks  of  the  river  were  in  many  places 
precipitous,  with  strata  of  bituminous  coal. 

They  now  entered  a  region  abounding  with 
buffalo — that  ever-journeying  animal,  which 
moves  in  countless  droves  from  point  to  point 
of  the  vast  wilderness  ;  traversing  plains,  pour- 
ing through  the  intricate  defiles  of  mountains, 
swimming  rivers,  ever  on  the  move  ;  guided  on 
its  boundless  migrations  by  some  traditionary 
knowledge,  like  the  finny  tribes  of  the  ocean, 
which,  at  certain  seasons,  find  their  mysterious 
paths  across  the  deep,  and  revisit  the  remotest 
shores. 

These  great  migratory  herds  of  buffalo  have 
their  hereditary  paths  and  highways,  worn 
deep  through  the  country,  and  making  for  the 
surest  passes  of  the  mountains,  and  the  most 
practicable  fords  of  the  rivers.  When  once  a 
great  column  is  in  full  career,  it  goes  straight 
forward,  regardless  of  all  obstacles  ;  those  in 
front  being  impelled  by  the  moving  mass  be- 
hind. At  such  times  they  will  break  through 
a  camp,  trampling  down  eveiythirig  in  their 
course. 

It  was  the  lot  of  the  voyagers,  one  night,  to 
encamp  at  one  of  these  affalo  landing-places, 
and  exactly  on  the  trail.     They  had  not  been 


B  'MoodcD  JBufTalo 


137 


long  asleep,  when  they  were  awakened  by  a 
great  bellowing  and  tramping,  and  the  rush, 
and  splash,  and  snorting  of  animals  in  the 
river.  They  had  just  time  to  ascertain  that  a 
buffalo  army  was  entering  the  river  on  the  op- 
posite side,  and  making  towards  the  landing- 
place.  With  all  haste  they  moved  their  boat 
and  shifted  their  camp,  by  which  time  the  head 
of  the  column  had  reached  the  shore,  and  came 
pressing  up  the  bank. 

It  was  a  singular  spectacle,  by  the  uncertain 
moonlight,  to  behold  this  countless  throng 
making  their  way  across  the  river,  blowing, 
and  bellowing,  and  splashing.  Sometimes  they 
pass  in  such  dense  and  continuous  column  as 
to  form  a  temporary  dam  across  the  river  ;  the 
waters  of  which  rise  and  rush  over  their  backs, 
or  between  their  squadrons.  The  roaring  and 
rushing  sound  of  one  of  these  vast  herds  cross- 
ing a  river,  may  sometimes  in  a  still  night  be 
heard  for  miles. 

The  voyagers  now  had  game  in  profusion. 
They  could  kill  as  many  buffalo  as  they  pleased, 
and,  occasionally,  were  wanton  in  their  havoc, 
especially  among  scattered  herds,  that  came 
swimming  near  the  boat.  On  one  occasion,  an 
old  buffalo  bull  approached  so  near  that  the 
half-breeds  must  fain  try  to  noose  him,  as  they 
would  a  wild  horse.     The  noose  was  success- 


'4 

j'i/. 


HI  , 


t  i\ 


I 


i 

I 

.  1 

! 


1  :  ■■  ! 


I.;.;:. 


.'Mi 


■ifi:^ 


138 


3BonncviIIc'd  BDi^entures 


fully  thrown  around  his  head,  and  secured  him 
by  the  horns,  and  they  now  promised  them- 
selves ample  sport.  The  buffalo  made  a  pro- 
digious turmoil  in  the  water,  bellowing,  and 
blowing,  and  floundering  ;  and  they  all  floated 
down  the  stream  together.  At  length  he  found 
a  foothold  on  a  sand-bar,  and  taking  to  his 
heels,  whirled  the  boat  after  him,  like  a  whale 
when  harpooned ;  so  that  the  hunters  were 
obliged  to  cast  off"  their  rope,  with  which 
strange  head-gear  the  venerable  bull  made  off" 
to  the  prairies. 

On  the  24th  of  August,  the  bull-boat 
emerged,  with  its  adventurous  crew,  into  the 
broad  bosom  of  the  mighty  Missoxiri.  Here, 
about  six  miles  above  the  mouth  of  the  Yellow- 
stone, the  voyagers  landed  at  Fort  Union,  the 
distributing  post  of  the  American  Fur  Com- 
pany in  the  western  country.  It  was  a  stock- 
aded fortress,  about  two  hundred  and  twenty 
feet  square,  pleasantly  situated  on  a  high  bank. 
Here  they  were  hospitably  entertained  by  Mr. 
M'Kenzie,  the  superintendent,  and  remained 
with  him  three  days,  enjoying  the  unusual 
luxuries  of  bread,  butter,  milk,  and  cheese,  for 
the  fort  was  well  supplied  with  domestic  cattle, 
though  it  had  no  garden.  The  atmosphere  of 
these  elevated  regions  is  said  to  be  too  dry  for 
the  culture  of  vegetables  ;  yet  the  voyagers,  in 


B  Aclancbol)?  Acmento 


139 


coming  down  the  Yellowstone,  had  met  with 
plums,  grapes,  chenies,  and  currants,  and  had 
observed  ash  and  elm  trees.  Where  these 
grow,  the  climate  cannot  be  incompatible  with 
gardening. 

At  Fort  Union,  Wyeth  met  with  a  melancholy 
memento  of  one  of  his  men.  This  was  a  pow- 
der-flask, which  a  clerk  had  purchased  from  a 
Blackfoot  warrior.  It  bore  the  initials  of  poor 
More,  the  unfortunate  youth  murdered  the  year 
previously,  at  Jackson's  Hole,  by  the  Black- 
feet,  and  whose  bones  had  been  subsequently 
found  by  Captain  Bonneville.  This  flask  had 
either  been  passed  from  hand  to  hand  of  the 
tribe,  or,  perhaps,  had  been  brought  to  the  fort 
by  the  very  savage  who  slew  him. 

As  the  bull-boat  was  now  nearly  worn  out, 
and  altogether  unfit  for  the  broader  and  more 
turbulent  stream  of  the  Missouri,  it  was  given 
tip,  and  a  canoe  of  cottonwood,  about  twenty 
feet  long,  fabricated  by  the  Blackfeet,  was 
purchased  to  supply  its  place.  In  this  Wyeth 
hoisted  his  sail,  and  bidding  adieu  to  the 
hospitable  superintendent  of  Fort  Union,  turned 
his  prow  to  the  east,  and  set  ofif  down  the 
Missouri. 

He  had  not  proceeded  many  hours,  before, 
in  the  evening,  he  came  to  a  large  keel  boat, 
at  anchor.     It  proved  to  be  the  boat  of  Captain 


i 


140 


J8onneviUe'0  Bdventurcd 


I  •,.■ 


'1,    i 


William  Sublette,  freighted  with  munitions  for 
carrying  on  a  powerful  opposition  to  the  Ameri- 
can Fur  Company.  The  voyagers  went  c:i 
board,  where  they  were  treated  with  the  hearty 
hospitality  of  the  wilderness,  and  passed  a 
social  evening,  talking  over  past  scenes  and 
adventures,  and  especially  the  memorable  fight 
at  Pierre's  Hole. 

Here  Milton  Sublette  determined  to  give  up 
further  voyaging  in  the  canoe,  and  remain 
with  his  brother ;  accordingly,  in  the  morning, 
the  fellow-voyagers  took  kind  leave  of  each 
other,  and  Wyeth  continued  on  his  course. 
There  was  now  no  one  on  board  of  his  boat 
that  had  ever  voyaged  on  the  Missouri ;  it  was, 
however,  all  plain  sailing  down  the  stream, 
without  any  chance  of  missing  the  way. 

All  day  the  voyagers  pulled  gently  along, 
and  landed  in  the  evening  and  supped ;  then 
re-embarking,  they  suffered  the  canoe  to  float 
down  with  the  current,  taking  turns  to  watch 
and  sleep.  The  night  was  calm  and  serene ; 
the  elk  kept  up  a  contintial  whinnying  or 
squealing,  being  the  commencement  of  the 
season  when  they  are  in  heat.  In  the  midst 
of  the  night,  the  canoe  struck  on  a  sand-bar, 
and  all  hands  were  aroused  by  the  rush  and 
roar  of  the  wild  waters,  which  broke  around 
her.    They  were  all  obliged  to  j ump  overboard, 


i 


l^aval  Contest  wftb  a  J3ear 


141 


and  work  hard  to  get  her  off,  which  was  ac- 
complished with  much  difficulty. 

In  the  course  of  the  following  day  they  saw 
three  grizzly  bears  at  different  times  along  the 
bank.  The  last  one  was  on  a  point  of  land, 
and  was  evidently  making  for  the  river,  to 
swim  across.  The  two  half-breed  hunters  were 
now  eager  to  repeat  the  manoeuvre  of  the  noose ; 
promising  to  entrap  Bruin,  and  have  rare  sport 
in  strangling  and  drowning  him.  Their  only 
fear  was,  that  he  might  take  fright  and  return 
to  land  before  they  could  get  between  him  and 
the  shore.  Holding  back,  therefore,  until  he 
was  fairly  committed  in  the  centre  of  the 
stream,  they  then  pulled  forward  with  might 
and  main,  so  as  to  cut  off  his  retreat,  and  take 
him  in  the  rear.  One  of  the  worthies  stationed 
himself  in  the  bow,  with  the  cord  and  slip- 
noose,  the  other,  with  the  Nez  Perc^,  managed 
the  paddles.  There  was  nothing  further  from 
the  thoughts  of  honest  Bruin,  however,  than  to 
beat  a  retreat.  Just  as  the  canoe  was  drawing 
near,  he  turned  suddenly  round  and  made  for 
it,  with  a  horrible  snarl,  and  a  tremendous 
show  of  teeth.  The  affrighted  hunter  called 
to  his  comrades  to  paddle  off.  Scarce  had 
they  turned  the  boat,  when  the  bear  laid  his 
enormous  claws  on  the  gunwale,  and  attempted 
to  get  on  board.    The  canoe  was  nearly  over- 


i 


fi     ,       ' 


143 


asonncville'0  Bdvcnturcs 


ft 


A  i  I 


:i,;'.-| 


( 


Hi 


i    ! 


\il 


S* 


t'     1 


I  :■:! 


turned,  and  a  deluge  of  water  came  pouring 
over  the  gunwale.  All  was  clamor,  terror,  and 
confusion.  Every  one  bawled  out — the  bear 
roared  and  snarled — one  caught  up  a  g^n,  but 
water  had  rendered  it  useless.  Others  handled 
their  paddles  more  effectually,  and  beating  old 
Bruin  about  the  head  and  claws,  obliged  him 
to  relinquish  his  hold.  They  now  plied  their 
paddles  with  might  and  main  ;  the  bear  made 
the  best  of  his  way  to  shore,  and  so  ended  the 
second  exploit  of  the  noose — the  hunters  de- 
termining to  have  no  more  naval  contests  with 
grizzly  bears. 

The  voyagers  were  now  out  of  the  range  of 
Crows  and  Blackfeet ;  but  they  were  approach- 
ing the  country  of  the  Rees,  or  Arickaras  a 
tribe  no  less  dangerous,  and  who  were,  gen- 
erally, hostile  to  small  parties. 

In  passing  through  their  country,  Wyeth 
laid  by  all  day,  and  drifted  quietly  down  the 
river  at  night.  In  this  way  he  passed  on,  until 
he  supposed  himself  safely  through  the  region 
of  danger,  when  he  resumed  his  voyaging  in 
the  open  day.  On  the  3d  of  September  he 
had  landed,  at  mid-day,  to  dine  ;  and  while 
some  were  making  a  fire,  one  .of  the  hunters 
mounted  a  high  bank  to  look  out  for  game. 
He  had  scarce  glanced  his  eye  round,  when  he 
perceived  horres  grazing  on  the  opposite  side 


B  pcrUoud  Situation 


'43 


of  the  river.  Crouching  down,  he  slunk  back 
to  the  camp,  and  reported  what  he  had  seen. 
On  further  reconnoitring,  the  voyagers  counted 
twenty-one  lodges ;  and,  from  the  number  of 
horses,  computed  that  there  must  be  nearly  a 
hundred  Indians  encamped  there.  They  now 
drew  their  t>oat,  with  all  speed  and  caution, 
into  a  thicket  of  water  willows,  and  remained 
closely  concealed  all  day.  As  soon  as  the 
night  closed  in  they  re-embarked.  The  moon 
would  rise  early  ;  so  that  they  had  but  about 
two  hours  of  darkness  to  get  past  the  camp. 
The  night,  however,  was  cloudy,  with  a  blus- 
tering wind.  Silently,  and  with  muffled  oars, 
they  glided  down  the  river,  keeping  close  under 
the  shore  opposite  to  the  camp,  watching  its 
various  lodges  and  fires,  and  the  dark  forms 
passing  to  and  fro  between  them ,  Suddenly, 
on  turning  a  point  of  land,  they  found  them- 
selves close  upon  a  camp  on  their  own  side  of 
the  river.  It  appeared  that  not  more  than  one 
half  of  the  band  had  crossed.  They  were 
within  a  few  yards  of  the  shore  ;  they  saw  dis- 
tinctly the  savages—  some  standing,  some  lying 
round  the  fire.  Horses  were  grazing  around. 
Some  lodges  were  set  up  ;  others  had  been  sent 
across  the  river.  The  red  glare  of  the  fires 
upon  these  wild  groups  and  harsh  faces,  con- 
trasted with  the  surrounding  darkness,  had  a 


^' 


i 


fill 


144 


Xo\mcviUc*6  Bdvcnturcd 


ii.j«^' 


*?.  :^   I: 


if'  J 


1*  ' 


ii  'l' 


I  'M 


.til 


'.:i^ 


M 
11 


-  'J)>  ii. 


startling  effect,  as  the  voyagers  suddenly  came 
upon  the  scene.  The  dogs  of  the  camp  per- 
ceived them,  and  barked  ;  but  the  Indians, 
fortunately,  took  no  heed  of  their  clamor. 
Wyeth  instantly  sheered  his  boat  into  the 
stream ;  when,  unluckily,  it  struck  upon  a 
sand-bar,  and  stuck  fast.  It  was  a  perilous 
and  trying  situation  ;  for  he  was  fixed  between 
the  two  camps,  and  within  rifle  range  cf  both. 
AH  hands  jumped  out  into  the  water,  and  tried 
to  get  the  boat  off ;  but  as  no  one  dared  to  give 
the  word,  they  could  not  pull  together,  and 
their  labor  was  in  vain.  In  this  way  they 
labored  for  a  long  time ;  until  Wyeth  thought 
of  giving  a  signal  for  a  general  heave  by  lift- 
ing his  hat.  The  expedient  succeeded.  They 
launched  their  canoe  again  into  deep  water, 
and  getting  in,  had  the  delight  of  seeing  the 
camp  fires  of  the  savages  soon  fading  in  the 
distance. 

They  continued  under  way  the  greater  part 
of  the  night,  until  far  beyond  all  danger  from 
this  band,  when  they  pulled  to  shore  and  en- 
camped. 

The  following  day  was  windy,  and  they 
came  near  upsetting  their  boat  in  carrr  ing  sail. 
Towards  evening,  the  wind  subsided  and  a 
beautiful  calm  night  succeeded.  They  floated 
along  with  the  current  throughout  the  night, 


Bfoul  of  a  Snng 


14S 


taking  turns  to  watch  and  steer.  The  deep 
stillness  of  the  night  was  occasionally  inter- 
rupted by  the  neighing  of  the  elk,  the  hoarse 
lowing  of  the  bufifalo,  the  hooting  of  large 
owls,  and  the  screeching  of  the  small  ones, 
now  and  then  the  splash  of  a  beaver,  or  the 
gong-like  sound  of  the  swan. 

Part  of  their  voyage  was  extremely  tempes- 
tuous, with  high  winds,  tremendous  thunder, 
and  soaking  rain ;  and  they  were  repeatedly 
in  extreme  danger  from  driftwood  and  sunken 
trees.  On  one  occasion,  having  continued  to 
float  at  night,  after  the  moon  was  down,  they 
ran  under  a  great  snag,  or  sunken  tree,  with 
dry  branches  above  the  water.  These  caught 
the  mast,  while  the  boat  swung  round,  broad- 
side to  the  stream,  and  began  to  fill  with  water. 
Nothing  saved  her  from  total  wreck  but  cut- 
ting away  the  mast.  She  then  drove  down 
the  stream,  but  left  one  of  the  unlucky  half- 
breeds  clinging  to  the  snag,  like  a  monkey  to 
a  pole.  It  was  necessary  to  run  inshore,  toil 
up  laboriously  along  the  eddies,  and  to  attain 
some  distance .  above  the  snag,  when  they 
launched  forth  again  into  the  stream,  and 
floated  down  with  it  to  his  rescue. 

We  forbear  to  detail  all  the  circumstances 
and  adventures  of  upwards  of  a  month's  voy- 
age, down  the  windings  and  doublings  of  this 


I 


VOL.  U. — lO 


I 


t  I 


"  .1 


t  i 


146 


3BonncviIIc*d  BDvcnturcd 


vast  river ;  in  the  course  of  which  they  stoppid 
occasionally  at  a  post  of  one  of  the  rival  f;.: 
companies,  or  at  a  government  agency  for  an 
Indian  tribe.  Neither  shall  we  dwell  11  pen 
the  changes  of  climate  and  productions,  as 
the  voyagerj  swept  down  from  north  to  soutli, 
across  several  degrees  of  latitude,  arriving  at 
the  regions  of  oaks  and  sycamores ;  of  mul 
berry  and  basswood  trees ;  of  paroquets  and 
wild  turkeys.  This  is  one  of  tne  character- 
istics of  the  middle  and  lower  part  of  the 
Missouri ;  but  still  more  so  of  the  Mississippi, 
whose  rapid  current  traverses  a  succession  cf 
latitudes,  so  as  in  a  few  days  to  float  the  voy- 
ager almost  from  the  frozen  regions  to  the 
tropics.  '; 

The  voyage  of  Wyeth  shows  the  regular 
unobstructed  flow  of  the  r^'vers  on  the  east 
side  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  in  contrast  to 
those  of  the  western  side,  where  rocks  and 
rapids  continually  menace  and  obstruct  the 
voyager.  We  find  him  in  a  frail  bark  of  skin.;, 
launching  himself  in  a  stream  at  the  foot  cf 
the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  floating  down  from 
river  to  river,  as  they  empty  themselves  into 
each  other;  and  so  he  might  have  "kept  on 
upwards  of  two  thousand  miles,  until  his  little 
bark  should  drift  into  the  ocean.  At  present, 
we  shall  stop  with  him  at  Cantonment  I^eaven- 


XLbc  **  Wbitc  Squawd 


»» 


M7 


worth,  the  frontier  post  of  the  United  States, 
where  he  arrived  on  the  27th  of  September. 

Here,  his  first  care  was  to  have  his  Nez 
Percd  Indian,  and  his  half-breed  boy,  Baptiste, 
vaccinated.  As  they  approached  the  fort, 
they  were  hailed  by  the  sentinel.  The  sight 
of  a  soldier  in  full  array,  with  what  appeared 
to  be  a  long  knife  glittering  on  the  end  of  his 
musket,  struck  Baptiste  with  such  affright, 
that  he  took  to  his  heels,  bawling  for  mercy 
at  the  top  of  his  voice.  The  Nez  Perc6  would 
have  followed  him,  had  not  Wyeth  assured 
him  of  his  safety.  When  they  underwent  the 
operation  of  the  larcet,  the  d  jtor's  wife  and 
another  lady  were  present — both  beautiful 
women.  They  were  the  first  white  women 
they  had  seen,  and  they  could  not  keep  their 
eyes  oflF  of  them.  On  returning  to  the  boat, 
they  recounted  to  their  companions  all  that 
they  had  observed  at  the  fort ;  but  were 
especially  eloquent  about  the  white  squaws, 
who,  they  said,  were  white  as  snow,  and  more 
beautiful  than  any  human  being  they  had 
ever  beheld. 

We  shall  not  accompany  the 'captain  any 
further  in  his  voyage  ;  but  will  simply  state, 
that  he  made  his  way  to  Boston,  where  he 
succeeded  in  organizing  an  association  under 
the  name  of  "The  Columbia  River  Fishing 


Ilf 


Xonncvi\\e*B  B^vcntured 


I      I 


!    I 


}     ■ 


U   M 


and  Trading  Company,"  for  his  original 
objects  of  a  salmon  fishery  and  a  trade  in  furs. 
A  brig,  the  Afary  Dacres,  had  been  dispatched 
for  the  Columbia  with  supplies  ;  and  he  was 
now  on  his  way  to  the  same  point,  at  the 
head  of  sixty  men,  whom  he  had  enlisted  at 
St.  I/)uis  ;  some  of  whom  were  experienced 
hunters,  and  aU  more  habituated  to  the  life  of 
the  wilderness  than  his  first  band  of  "  Down- 
easters." 

We  will  now  return  to  Captain  Bonneville 
and  his  party,  whom  we  left  making  up  their 
packs  and  saddling  their  horses,  in  Bear  River 
Valley. 


Cbapter  fif f . 

Departure  of  Captain  Bonneville  for  the  Columbia- 
Advance  of  Wyeth — Efforts  to  Keep  the  Lead — Hud* 
son's  Bay  Party — A  Junketing — A  Delectable  Bever- 
age— Honey  and  Alcohol— High  Carousing — The 
Canadian  Bon  Vivant—Pi.  Cache — A  Rapid  Move — 
Wyeth  and  his  Plans — His  Travelling  Companions 
— Buffalo  Hunting — More  Conviviality — An  Inter- 
ruption. 


IT  was  the  3d  of  July  that  Captain  Bonne- 
ville set  out  on  his  second  visit  to  the 
banks  of  the  Columbia,  at  the  head  of 
twenty-three  men.  He  travelled  leisurely,  to 
keep  his  horses  fresh,  until,  on  the  loth  of  July 
a  scout  brought  word  that  Wyeth,  with  his 
band,  was  but  fifty  miles  in  the  rear,  and  push- 
ing forward  with  all  speed.  This  caused  some 
bustle  in  the  camp ;  for  it  was  important  to 
get  to  the  buffalo  ground  to  secure  provisions 
for  the  journey.  As  the  horses  were  too  heav- 
ily laden  to  travel  fast,  a  cache  was  digged  as 
promptly  as  possible,  to  receive  all  superfluous 


! 


I50 


JSoitticvtUe'0  BDvcntured 


ii 

.1  \ 

i  i 


i' 


f- 1 


baggage.  Just  as  it  was  finished,  a  spring 
burst  out  of  the  earth  at  the  bottom.  Another 
cache  was  therefore  digged,  about  two  miles 
further  on,  when,  as  they  were  about  to  bury 
the  effects,  a  line  of  horsemen,  with  pack- 
horses,  were  seen  streaking  over  the  plain,  and 
encamped  close  by. 

It  proved  to  be  a  small  band  in  the  service 
of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company,  under  the 
command  of  a  veteran  Canadian  ;  one  of  those 
petty  leaders,  who,  with  a  small  party  of  men, 
and  a  small  supply  of  goods,  are  employed  to 
follow  up  a  band  of  Indians  from  one  hunting 
ground  to  another,  and  buy  up  their  peltries. 

Having  received  numerous  civilities  from 
the  Hudson's  Bay  Company,  the  captain  sent 
an  invitation  to  the  officers  of  the  party  to  an 
evening  regale,  and  set  to  work  to  make  jovial 
preparations.  As  the  night  air  in  these  elevated 
regions  is  apt  to  be  cold,  a  blazing  fire  was 
soon  made,  that  would  have  done  credit  to  a 
Christmas  dinner  instead  of  a  midsummer 
banquet.  The  parties  met  in  high  good-fellow- 
ship. There  was  abundance  of  such  hunters' 
fare  as  the  neighborhood  furnished  ;  and  it  was 
all  discussed  with  mountain  appetites.  They 
talked  over  all  the  events  of  their  late  cam- 
paigns ;  but  the  Canadian  veteran  had  been 
-.nlucky  in  some  of  his  transactions,  and  his 


h.!  t. 


t)onciS  and  BIcobol 


15T 


brow  began  to  grow  cloudy.  Captain  Bonne- 
ville remarked  his  rising  spleen,  and  regretted 
that  he  had  no  juice  cf  the  grape  to  keep  it 
down. 

A  man's  wit,  however,  is  quick  and  inven- 
tive in  the  wilderness ;  a  thought  suggested 
itself  to  the  captain,  how  he  might  brew  a 
delectable  beverage.  Among  his  stores  was  a 
keg  of  honey  but  half  exhausted.  This  he 
filled  up  with  alcohol,  and  stirred  the  fierj^  and 
mellifluous  ingredients  together.  The  glori- 
ous result  may  be  readily  imagined — a  happy 
compound,  of  strength  and  sweetness,  enough 
to  soothe  the  most  ruffled  temper,  and  unsettle 
the  most  solid  understanding. 

The  beverage  worked  to  a  charm  ;  the  can 
circulated  merrily ;  the  first  deep  draught 
washed  out  every  care  from  the  mind  of  the 
veteran  ;  the  second  elevated  his  spirit  to  the 
clouds.  He  was,  ii:  fact,  a  boon  companion, 
as  all  veteran  Canadian  traders  are  apt  to  be. 
He  now  became  glorious ;  talked  over  all  his 
exploits,  his  huntings,  his  fightings  with  Indian 
bravcs,  his  loves  with  Indian  beauties ;  sang 
snatches  of  old  French  ditties  and  Canadian 
boat  songs ;  drank  deeper  and  deeper,  sang 
louder  and  louder,  until,  having  reached  a  cli- 
max of  drunken  gayety,  he  gradually  declined, 
and  at  length  fell  fast  asleep  upon  the  ground. 


i 


n 


n 


« I 


!      i 


ft'      > 


I       ^ 


1/^ 


152 


JBonnevilIe'0  H^venturcd 


After  a  long  nap,  he  again  raised  his  head, 
imbibed  another  potation  of  the  "sweet  and 
strong,*'  flashed  up  with  another  slight  blaze 
of  French  gayety,  and  again  fell  asleep. 

The  morning  found  him  still  upon  the  field 
of  action,  but  in  sad  and  sorrowful  condition, 
suffering  the  penalties  of  past  pleasures,  and 
calling  to  mind  the  captain's  dulcet  compound, 
with  many  a  retch  and  spasm.  It  seemed  as  if 
the  honey  and  alcohol,  which  had  passed  so 
glibly  and  smoothly  over  his  tongue,  were  at 
war  within  his  stomach  ;  and  that  he  had  a 
swarm  of  bees  within  his  head.  In  short,  so 
helpless  and  woebegone  was  his  plight,  that 
his  party  proceeded  on  their  march  without 
him — the  captain  promising  to  bring  him  on  in 
safety,  in  the  after  part  of  the  day. 

As  soon  as  this  party  had  moved  off.  Captain 
Bonneville's  men  proceeded  to  construct  and 
fill  their  cache ;  and  just  as  it  was  completed 
the  party  of  Wyeth  was  descried  at  a  distance. 
In  a  moment  all  was  activity  to  take  the  road. 
The  horses  were  prepared  and  mounted ;  and 
being  lightened  of  a  great  part  of  their  burdens, 
were  able  to  move  with  celerity.  As  to  the 
worthy  convive  of  the  preceding  evening,  he 
was  carefully  gathered  up  from  the  hunter's 
couch  on  which  he  lay,  repentant  and  supine, 
and|  being  packed  upon  one  of  the  horses,  was 


tnii^ctb  ®vcrtahC0  JSoniicvillc 


153 


hurried  forward  with  the  convoy,  groaning  and 
ejaculating  at  every  jolt. 

In  the  course  of  the  day,  Wyeth,  being 
lightly  mounted,  rode  ahead  of  his  party,  and 
overtook  Captain  Bonneville.  Their  meeting 
was  friendly  and  courteous  ;  and  they  discussed 
sociably  their  respective  fortunes  since  they 
separated  on  the  banks  of  the  Bighorn.  Wyeth 
announced  his  intention  of  establishing  a  small 
trading  post  at  the  mouth  of  tlie  Portneuf,  and 
leaving  a  few  men  there,  with  a  quantity  of 
goods,  to  trade  with  the  neighboring  Indians. 
He  was  compelle"*.  in  fact,  to  this  measure,  in 
consequence  of  t  it  \ '  fusal  of  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tain Fur  Company  to  take  a  supply  of  goods, 
which  he  had  brought  out  for  them  according 
to  contract,  and  which  he  had  no  other  mode 
of  disposing  of.  He  further  informed  Captain 
Bonneville  that  the  competition  between  the 
Rocky  Mountain  and  American  Fur  Companies, 
which  had  led  to  such  nefarious  stratagems 
and  deadly  feuds,  was  at  an  end  ;  they  having 
divided  the  country  between  them,  allotting 
boundaries,  within  which  each  was  to  trade 
and  hunt,  so  as  not  to  interfere  with  the 
other. 

In  companj*^  with  Wyeth  were  travelling  two 
men  of  science — Mr.  Nuttall,  the  botanist,  the 
same  who  ascended  the  Missouri,  at  the  time 


I 


i;  4 


154 


Xonncvi{lc*0  Bdvcntures 


ff'r  *   ' 


f|;''.  '^ 


I 


:  i 


!  i'l 


of  the  expedition  to  Astoria  ;  and  Mr.  Town- 
shend,  the  ornithologist.  From  these  gentlemen 
we  may  look  forward  to  important  information 
concerning  these  i  Leresting  regions.  There 
were  three  religious  missionaries,  also,  bound 
to  the  shores  of  the  Columbia,  to  spread  the 
light  of  the  Gospel  in  that  fair  wilderness. 

After  riding  for  some  time  together,  in 
friendly  conversation,  Wyeth  returned  to  his 
party,  and  Captain  Bonneville  continued  to 
press  forward,  and  to  gain  ground.  At  night, 
he  sent  off  the  sadly  sober  and  moralizing 
chief  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company,  under  a 
proper  escort,  to  rejoin  his  people,  his  route 
branching  off  in  a  different  direction.  The 
latter  took  a  cordial  leave  of  his  host,  hoping, 
on  some  future  occasion,  to  repay  his  hospitality 
in  kind. 

In  the  morning  the  captain  was  early  on  the 
march,  throwing  scouts  oUv  far  ahead,  to  scour 
hill  and  dale,  in  search  of  buffalo.  He  had 
confidently  expected  to  find  game  in  abun- 
dance, on  the  head-waters  of  the  Portneuf ;  but 
on  reaching  that  region,  not  a  track  was  to  be 
seen. 

At  length  one  of  the  scouts,  who  had  made  a 
wide  sweep  away  to  the  head-waters  of  the 
Blackfoot  River,  discovered  great  herds  quietly 
grazing  in  the  adjacent  meadows,     He  set  out 


I  [ 


<3reat  tyct^e  of  JSuffalo 


155 


on  his  retuni,  to  report  his  discoveries ;  but 
night  overtaking  him,  he  was  kindly  and  hos- 
pitably entertained  at  the  camp  of  Wyeth.  As 
soon  as  day  dawned,  he  hastened  to  his  own 
camp  with  the  welcome  intelligence ;  and  about 
ten  o'clock  of  the  same  morning,  Captain 
Bonneville's  party  were  in  the  midst  of  the 
game. 

The  paclw**^  wxre  scarcely  off  the  backs  of  the 
mules,  when  the  runners,  mounted  on  the  fleet- 
est horses,  were  full  tilt  after  the  bufialo. 
Others  of  the  men  were  busied  erecting  scaf- 
folds, and  other  contrivances,  for  jerking  or 
drying  meat ;  others  were  lighting  great  fires 
for  the  same  purpose.  Soon  the  hunters  began 
to  make  their  appearance,  bringing  in  the 
choicest  morsels  of  buffalo  meat ;  these  were 
placed  upon  the  scaffolds,  and  the  whole  camp 
presented  a  scene  of  lingular  hurry  and  activity. 
At  daylight  the  next  morning,  the  runners 
again  took  the  field,  with  similar  success  ;  and, 
after  an  interval  of  repose  made  their  third  and 
last  chase,  about  twelve  o'clock,  for  by  mis 
time  Wyeth 's  party  was  in  sight.  The  game 
being  now  driven  into  a  valley,  at  some  dis- 
tance, Wyeth  w^as  obliged  to  fix  his  camp 
there  ;  but  he  came  in  the  evening  to  pay  Cap- 
tain Bonneville  a  visit.  He  was  accompanied 
by  Captain  Stewart,  the  amateur  traveller,  who 


1 


X56 


J3onneviUe'0  BDveitturcd 


;>*.  I 


!'■  'r^ 


ii!..(    j  I 


!  1 


ji'l. 


i  '. 


k-i!  I  . 


had  not  yet  sated  his  appetite  for  the  adven- 
turous life  of  the  wilderness.  With  him,  also, 
was  a  Mr.  M'Kay,  a  half-breed,  son  of  the  un- 
fortunate adventurer  of  the  same  name,  who 
came  out  in  the  fr.-"  maritime  expedition  to 
Astoria,  and  was  bi  a'ii  up  in  the  Tonquin. 
His  son  had  grown  up  in  the  employ  of  the 
British  fur  companies ;  and  was  a  prime 
hunter,  and  a  daring  partisan.  He  held, 
moreover,  a  farm,  in  the  valley  of  the  Wal- 
lamut. 

The  three  visitors,  wiien  they  reached  Cap- 
tain Bonneville's  camp,  were  surprised  to  find 
no  one  in  it  but  himself  and  three  men ;  his 
party  being  dispersed  in  all  directions,  to  make 
the  most  of  their  present  chance  for  hunting. 
They  remonstrated  with  him  on  the  impru- 
dence of  remaining  with  so  trifling  a  guard,  in 
a  region  so  full  of  danger.  Captain  Bonneville 
vindicated  the  policy  of  his  conduct.  He  never 
hesitated  to  send  out  all  his  hunters  when  any 
important  object  was  to  be  attained ;  and 
experience  had  taught  him  that  he  was  most 
secure,  when  his  forces  were  thus  distributed 
over  the  surrounding  country.  He  then  was 
sure  that  no  enemy  could  approach  from  any 
direction  without  being  discovered  by  his  hun- 
ters, who  have  a  quick  eye  for  detecting  the 
slightest  signs  of  the  proximity  of  Indians, 


Aore  Coitvtvialtts 


157 


and  who  would  instantly  convey  intelligence  to 
the  camp. 

The  captain  now  set  to  work  with  his  men  to 
prepare  a  suitable  entertainment  for  his  guests. 
It  was  a  time  of  plenty  in  the  camp  ;  of  prime 
hunters'  dainties,  of  buffalo  humps  and  buf- 
falo tongues,  and  roasted  ribs  and  broiled 
marrow-bones.  All  these  were  cooked  in  hun- 
ters' style  ;  servea  up  with  a  profusion  known 
only  on  a  plentiful  hunting  ground,  and  dis- 
cussed with  an  appetite  that  would  astonish 
the  puny  gourmands  of  the  cities.  But  above 
all,  and  to  give  a  bacchanalian  grace  to  his 
truly  masculine  repast,  the  captain  produced 
his  mellifluous  keg  of  home-brewed  nectar, 
which  had  been  so  potent  over  the  senses  of  the 
veteran  of  Hudson's  Bay.  Potations,  pottle 
deep,  again  went  round.  Never  did  beverage 
excite  greater  glee,  or  meet  with  more  raptu- 
rous commendation.  The  parties  were  fast  ad- 
vancing to  that  happy  state  which  would  have 
insured  ample  cause  for  the  next  day's  repent- 
ance, and  the  bees  were  already  beginning  to 
buzz  about  their  ears,  when  a  messenger  came 
spurring  to  the  camp  with  intelligence  that 
Wyeth's  people  had  got  entangled  in  one  of 
those  deep  and  frightful  ravines,  piled  with  im- 
mense fragments  of  volcanic  rock,  which  gash 
the  whole  country  about  the  head-waters  of  the 


I 


#'  i  1 


158 


JSonncville'd  BDvetiturca 


( 


Blackfoot  River.  The  revel  was  instantly  at 
an  end  ;  the  keg  of  sweet  and  potent  home- 
brewed was  deserted  ;  and  the  guests  departed 
with  all  speed,  to  aid  in  extricating  their  com- 
panions from  the  volcanic  ravine. 


ii'i 


[^:  ;'!, 


dbapter  ftVf, 


A  Rapid  March — A  Cloud  of  Dust — Wild  Horsemen — 
"High  Jinks" — Horse-Racing  and  Rifle-Shooting 
—The  Game  of  "  Hand  "—The  Fishing  Season- 
Mode  of  Fishing — Table  Lands — Salmon  Fishers — 
The  Captain's  Visit  to  an  Indian  Lodge— The  In- 
dian Girl— The  Pocket  Mirror — Supper— Troubles 
of  an  Evil  Conscience. 


U 


P  and  away ! "  is  the  first  thought  at 
daylight  of  the  Indian  trader,  w^en 
a  rival  is  at  hand  and  distance  is  to 
be  gained.  Early  in  the  morning,  Captain 
Bonneville  ordered  the  half-dried  meat  to  be 
packed  upon  the  horses,  and  leaving  Wyeth 
and  his  party  to  hunt  the  scattered  buffalo, 
pushed  off  rapidly  to  the  east,  to  regain  th* 
plain  of  the  Portneuf.  His  march  was  rugged 
and  dangerous ;  through  volcanic  hills,  broken 
into  cliffs  and  precipices,  and  seamed  with 
tremendous  chasms,  where  the  rocks  rose  like 
walls. 
On  the  second  day,  however,  he  encamped 

-       159 


^i^^i; 


fT 


i6o 


J9onneviUc'0  BDventured 


m 


: 


■:'.i 


once  more  in  the  p»lain,  and  as  it  was  still  early, 
some  of  the  men  strolled  out  to  the  neighbor- 
ing hills.  In  casting  their  eyes  round  the 
country,  they  perceived  a  g^at  cloud  of  dust 
rising  in  the  south,  and  evidently  approach- 
ing. Hastening  back  to  the  camp,  they 
gave  the  alarm.  Preparations  were  hastily 
made  to  receive  an  enemy  ;  while  some  of  the 
men,  throwing  themselves  upon  the  **  running 
horses  "  kept  for  hunting,  galloped  off  to  re- 
connoitre. In  a  little  while  they  made  signals 
from  a  distance  that  all  was  friendly.  By  this 
time,  the  cloud  of  dust  had  swept  on  as  if 
hurried  along  by  a  blast,  and  a  band  of  wild 
horsemen  came  dashing  at  full  leap  into  the 
camp,  yelling  and  whooping  like  so  many 
maniacs.  Their  dresses,  their  accoutrements, 
their  mode  of  riding,  and  their  uncouth  clamor, 
made  them  seem  a  party  of  savages  arrayed 
for  war;  but  they  proved  to  be  principally 
half-breeds,  and  white  men  grown  savage  in 
the  wilderness,  who  were  employed  as  trappers 
and  hunters  in  the  service  of  the  Hudson's 
Bay  Company. 

Here  was  again  **  high  jinks  "  in  the  camp. 
Captain  Bonneville's  men  hailed  these  wild 
scamperers  as  congenial  spirits,  or,  rather,  as 
the  very  game  birds  of  their  class.  They  en- 
tertained them  with  the  hospitality  of  moun- 


OameoCDanD" 


i6l 


taineers,  feasting  them  at  every  fire.  At  first, 
there  were  mutual  details  of  adventures  and 
exploits,  and  broad  joking  mingled  with  peals 
of  laughter.  Then  came  on  boasting  of  the 
comparative  merits  of  horses  and  rifles,  which 
soon  engrossed  every  tongue.  This  naturally 
led  to  racing  and  shooting  at  a  mark  ;  one  trial 
of  speed  and  skill  succeeded  another,  shouts 
and  acclamations  rose  from  the  victorious  par- 
ties, fierce  altercations  succeeded,  and  a  general 
m^l6e  was  about  to  take  place,  when  suddenly 
the  attention  of  the  quarrellers  was  arrested 
by  a  strange  kind  of  Indian  chant  or  chorus, 
that  seemed  to  operate  upon  them  as  a  charm. 
Their  fury  was  at  an  end ;  a  tacit  reconciliation 
succeeded,  and  the  ideas  of  the  whole  mongrel 
crowd — whites,  half-breeds,  and  squaws — were 
turned  in  a  new  direction.  They  all  formed 
into  groups,  and  taking  their  places  at  the 
several  fires,  prepared  for  one  of  the  most  ex- 
citing amusements  of  the  Nez  Percys,  and  the 
other  tribes  of  the  Far  West. 

The  choral  chant,  in  fact,  which  had  thus 
acted  as  a  charm,  was  a  kind  of  wild  accom- 
paniment to  the  favorite  Indian  game  of' 
"Hand."  This  is  played  by  two  parties 
drawn  out  in  opposite  platoons  before  a  blaz- 
ing fire.  It  is  in  some  respects  like  the  old 
game  of  passing  the  ring  or  the  button,  and 


VOL.  II.— II 


i6a 


JBoimevtUc'd  BDvcttturca 


:f  : 


n  ! 


■!  ! 


I. 


i:  ! 


I.:  I 


detecting  the  hand  which  holds  it.  In  t!ic 
present  game,  the  object  hidden,  or  the  cac/te 
as  it  is  called  by  the  trappers,  is  a  small  splint 
of  wood,  or  other  diminutive  article,  that  may 
be  concealed  in  the  closed  hand.  This  is 
passed  backwards  and  forwards  among  the 
party  "in  hand,"  while  the  party  "out  of 
hand"  guess  where  it  is  concealed.  To 
heighten  the  excitement  and  confuse  the 
giiessers,  a  number  of  dry  poles  are  laid  before 
each  platoon,  upon  which  the  members  of  the 
party  "in  hand"  beat  furiously  with  short 
staves,  keeping  time  to  the  choral  chant  al- 
ready mentioned,  which  waxes  fast  and  furious 
as  the  game  proceeds.  As  large  bets  are 
staked  upon  the  game,  the  excitement  is  pro- 
digious. Each  party  in  turn  bursts  out  in 
full  chorus,  beating,  and  yelling,  and  working 
themselves  up  into  such  a  heat,  that  the  per- 
spiration rolls  down  their  naked  shoulders, 
even  in  the  cold  of  a  winter  night.  The  bets 
are  doubled  and  trebled  as  the  game  advances, 
the  mental  excitement  increases  almost  to 
madness,  and  all  the  wordly  effects  of  the 
gamblers  are  often  hazarded  upon  the  position 
of  a  straw. 

These  gambling  games  were  kept  up 
throughout  the  night ;  every  fire  glared  upon 
the  group  that  looked  like  a  crew  of  maniacs 


annual  #l0b«f  eadt 


163 


at  their  frantic  orgies ;  and  the  scene  would 
have  been 'kept  up  throughout  the  succeeding 
day.  had  not  Captain  Bonneville  interposed 
his  authoiity,  and  at  the  usual  hour  issued  his 
marching  orders. 

Proceeding  down  the  course  of  Snake  River, 
the  hunters  regularly  returned  to  camp  in  the 
evening  laden  with  wild  geese,  which  were 
yet  scarcely  able  to  fly,  and  were  easily  caught 
in  great  numbers.  It  was  now  the  season  of 
the  annual  fish-feast,  with  which  the  Indians 
in  these  parts  celebrate  the  first  appearance  of 
the  salmon  in  this  river.  These  fish  are  taken 
in  great  numbers  at  the  numerous  falls  of  about 
four  feet  pitch.  The  Indians  flank  the  shallow 
water  just  below,  and  spear  them  as  they  at- 
tempt to  pass.  In  wide  parts  of  the  river, 
also,  they  place  a  sort  of  chevaux-de-frise^  or 
fence,  of  poles  interwoven  with  withes  and 
forming  an  angle  in  the  middle  of  the  current, 
where  a  small  opening  is  left  for  the  salmon 
to  pass.  Arouud  this  opening  the  Indiari 
station  themselves  on  small  rafts,  and  ply  their 
spears  with  great  success. 

The  table  lands  so  common  in  this  region 
have  a  sandy  soil,  inconsiderable  in  depth,  and 
covered  with  sage,  or  more  properly  speaking 
wormwood.  Below  this  is  a  level  stratum  of 
rock,  riven  occasionally  by  frightful  chasms. 


n. 


164 


Xonncvi\lc*e  B&i?enturc0 


S 


'if;  : 


The  whole  plain  rises  as  it  approaches  the 
river,  and  terminates  with  high  and  broken 
cliffs,  difficult  to  pass,  and  in  many  places  so 
precipitous  that  it  is  impossible,  for  days  to- 
gether, to  get  down  to  the  water's  edge  to  give 
drink  to  the  horses.  This  obliges  the  traveller 
occasionally  to  abandon  the  vicinity  of  the 
river,  and  make  a  wide  sweep  into  the  interior. 

It  was  now  far  in  the  month  of  July,  and 
the  party  suffered  extremely  from  sultry 
weather  and  dusty  travelling.  The  flies  and 
gnats,  too,  were  extremely  troublesome  to  the 
horses ;  especially  when  keeping  along  the 
edge  of  the  river  where  it  runs  between  low 
sand-banks.  Whenever  the  travellers  en- 
camped in  the  afternoon  the  horses  retired 
to  the  gravelly  shores  and  remained  there, 
without  attempting  to  feed,  until  the  cool 
of  the  evening.  As  to  the  travellers,  they 
plunged  into  the  clear  and  cool  current,  to 
wash  away  the  dust  of  the  road,  and  refresh 
themselves  after  the  heat  of  the  day.  The 
nights  were  always  cool  and  pleasant. 

At  one  place  where  they  encamped  for  some 
time,  the  river  was  nearly  five  hundred  yards 
wide,  and  studded  with  grassy  islands,  adorned 
with  groves  of  willow  and  cotton-wood.  Here 
the  Indians  were  assembled  in  great  numbers, 
and  had  barricaded  the  channels  between  the 


Vi0it  to  f  itMan  %o^ge 


165 


islands,  to  enable  them  to  spear  the  salmon 
with  greater  facility.  They  were  a  timid  race, 
and  seemed  unaccustomed  to  the  sight  of  white 
men.  Entering  one  of  the  huts,  Captain  Bon- 
neville found  the  inhabitants  just  proceeding 
to  cook  a  fine  salmon.  It  is  put  into  a  pot 
filled  with  cold  water,  and  hung  over  the  fire. 
The  moment  the  water  begins  to  boil,  the*  fish 
is  considered  cooked. 

Taking  his  seat  unceremoniously,  and  light- 
ing his  pipe,  the  captain  awaited  the  cooking 
of  the  fish,  intending  to  invite  himself  to  the 
repast.  The  owner  of  the  hut  seemed  to  take 
his  intrusion  in  good  part.  While  conversing 
with  him,  the  captain  felt  something  move 
behind  him,  and  turning  round  and  removing 
a  few  skins  and  old  buffalo  robes,  discovered 
a  young  girl,  about  fourteen  years  of  age, 
crouched  beneath,  who  directed  her  large  black 
eyes  full  in  his  face,  and  continued  to  gaze  in 
mute  surprise  and  terror.  The  captain  endeav- 
ored to  dispel  her  fears,  and  drawing  a  bright 
ribbon  from  his  pocket,  attempted  repeatedly 
to  tie  it  round  her  neck.  She  jerked  back  at 
each  attempt,  uttering  a  sound  very  much  like 
a  snarl ;  nor  could  all  the  blandishments  of  the 
captain,  albeit  a  pleasant,  good-looking,  and 
somewhat  gallant  man,  succeed  in  conquer- 
ing the  shyness  of  the  savage  little  beauty. 


■ij,  i 


i66 


JSoimeville'd  B^venturc0 


II'  ■■ 


in' 

!-:  ■ 
I' 


i   i" 


ill 


■  I 


His  attentions  were  now  turned  to  the  parents, 
whom  he  presented  with  an  awl  and  a  little 
tobacco,  and  having  thus  secured  their  good 
will,  continued  to  smoke  his  pipe  and  watch 
the  salmon.  While  thus  seated  near  the  thres- 
hold, an  urchin  of  the  family  approached  the 
door,  but  catching  a  sight  of  the  strange  guest, 
ran,ofif  screaming  with  terror,  and  ensconced 
himself  behind  the  long  straw  at  the  back  of 
the  hut. 

Desirous  to  dispel  entirely  this  timidity,  and 
to  open  a  trade  with  the  simple  inhabitants  of 
the  hut,  who,  he  did  not  doubt,  had  furs  some- 
where concealed,  the  captain  now  drew  forth 
that  grand  lure  in  the  eyes  of  the  savage,  a 
pocket  mirror.  The  sight  of  it  was  irresistible. 
After  examining  it  for  a  long  time  with  won- 
der and  admiration,  they  produced  a  muskrat 
skin  and  offered  it  in  exchange.  The  captain 
shook  his  head  ;  but  purchased  the  skin  for  a 
couple  of  buttons — superfluous  trinkets !  as 
the  worthy  lord  of  the  hovel  had  neither  coat 
nor  breeches  on  which  to  place  them. 

The  mirror  still  continued  the  great  object 
of  desire,  particularly  in  the  eyes  of  the  old 
housewife,  who  produced  a  pot  of  parched 
flour  and  a  string  of  biscuit  roots.  These  pro- 
cured her  some  trifle  in  return  ;  but  cculd  not 
command  the  purchase  of  the  mirror.     The 


JSar^alnitid  for  Sftftis 


167 


salmon  being  now  completely  cooked,  they  all 
joined  heartily  in  supper.  A  bounteous  por- 
tion was  deposited  before  the  captain  by  the 
old  woman,  upon  some  fresh  grass,  which 
served  instead  of  a  platter ;  and  never  had  he 
tasted  a  salmon  boiled  so  completely  to  his 
fancy. 

Supper  being  over,  the  captain  lighted  his 
pipe  and  passed  it  to  his  host,  who,  inhaling 
the  smoke,  puffed  it  through  his  nostrils  so 
assiduously,  that  in  u  little  while  his  head 
manifested  signs  of  confusion  and  dizziness. 
Being  satisfied,  by  this  time,  of  the  kindly  and 
companionable  qualities  of  the  captain,  he  be- 
came easy  and  communicative  ;  and  at  length 
hinted  something  about  exchanging  beaver 
skins  for  horses.  The  captain  at  once  offered 
to  dispose  of  his  steed,  which  stood  fastened  at 
the  door.  The  bargain  was  soon  concluded, 
whereupon  the  Indian,  removing  a  pile  of 
bushes  under  which  his  valuables  were  con- 
cealed, drew  forth  the  number  of  skins  agreed 
upon  as  the  price. 

Shortly  afterwards,  some  of  the  captain's 
people  coming  up,  he  ordered  another  horse  to 
be  saddled,  and  mounting  it  took  his  departure 
from  the  hut,  after  distributing  a  few  trifling 
presents  among  its  simple  inhabitants.  Dur- 
ing all  the  time  of  his  visit,  tha  little  Indian 


t68 


3l3oiincv>llle'0  Bdventurcd 


I 

W 

m  ■■ 

■  {!■ 


I, 


i; 


i(t- ' 


F   ;  I 


:  -  I 


girl  had  kept  her  large  black  eyes  fixed  upon 
him,  almost  without  winking,  watching  every 
movement  with  awe  and  wonder ;  and  as  he 
rode  off,  remained  grazing  af^er  him,  motion- 
less as  a  statue.  Her  father,  however,  de- 
lighted with  his  new  acquaintance,  mounted 
his  newly  purchased  horse,  and  followed  in 
the  train  of  the  captain,  to  whom  he  continued 
to  be  a  faithful  and  useful  adherent  during  his 
sojourn  in  the  neighborhood. 

The  cowardly  efforts  of  an  evil  conscience 
were  evidenced  in  the  conduct  of  one  of  the 
captain's  men,  who  had  been  in  the  Califomian 
expedition.  During  all  their  intercourse  with 
the  harmless  people  of  this  place,  he  had  mani- 
fested uneasiness  and  anxiety.  While  his  com- 
panions mingled  freely  and  joyously  "with  the 
natives,  he  went  about  with  a  restless,  suspi- 
cious look,  scrutinizing  every  painted  form  and 
face,  and  starting  often  at  the  sudden  approach 
of  some  meek  and  inoffensive  savage,  who 
regarded  him  with  reverence  as  a  superior 
being.  Yet  this  was  ordinarily  a  bold  fellow, 
who  never  flinched  from  danger,  nor  turned 
pale  at  the  prospect  of  a  battle.  At  length  he 
requested  permission  of  Captain  Bonneville  to 
keep  out  of  the  way  of  these  people  entirely. 
Their  striking  resemblance,  he  said,  to  the 
people  of  Ogden's  River,  made  him  continually 


^Troubled  of  an  TEvii  Conscience 


169 


fear  that  some  among  them  might  have  seen 
him  in  that  expedition,  and  might  seek  an 
opportunity  of  revenge.  Ever  after  this,  while 
they  remained  in  this  neighborhood,  he  would 
skulk  out  of  the  way  and  keep  aloof  when  any  of 
the  native  inhabitants  approached.  "Such," 
o'  serves  Captain  Bonneville,  **  is  the  effect  of 
self-reproach,  even  upon  the  roving  trapper  in 
the  wilderness,  who  has  little  else  to  fear  than 
the  stings  of  his  own  guilty  conscience." 


.!,'    •  i.    |. 


'j:    I 


Cbapter  f  V. 

Outfit  of  a  Trapper— Risks  to  wfcich  he  is  Subjected — 
— Partnership  of  Trappers — Enmity  of  Indians- 
Distant  Smoke — A  CotiDtry  on  I'ire — Gun  Creek — 
Grand  Rond — Fine  raatiiics — Perplexities  in  a 
Smoky  Country— Conflagration  of  Forests, 

IT  had  been  the  intention  of  Captain  Bonne- 
ville, in  descending  along  Snake  River,  to 
scatter  his  trappers  upon  the  smaller 
streams.  In  this  way,  a  range  of  country  is 
trapped  by  small  detachments  from  a  main 
body.  The  outfit  of  a  trapper  is  generally  a 
rifle,  a  pound  of  powder,  and  four  pounds  of 
lead,  with  a  bullet  mould,  seven  traps,  an  axe, 
a  hatchet,  a  knife  and  awl,  a  camp  kettle,  two 
blankets,  and,  where  supplies  are  plenty,  seven 
pounds  of  flour.  He  has,  generally,  two  or 
three  horses,  to  carry  himself  and  his  baggage 
and  peltries.  Two  trappers  commonly  go  to- 
gether, for  the  purpose  of  mutual  assistance 
and  support -a  larger  party  cculd  not  easily 

170 


partncr0bip  of  (Trappcra 


*7» 


jected— 
idians— 
Creek— 
s    in    a 


Bonne- 
iver,  to 
>maller 
ntry  is 

main 
rally  a 
nds  of 
n  axe, 
le,  two 

seven 
two  or 
iggage 
go  to- 
stance 

easily 


escape  the  eyes  of  the  Indians.  It  is  a  service 
of  peril ;  and  even  more  so  at  present  than 
forruerly,  since  they  have  got  into  the  habit 
of  tivifficking  peltries  with  the  traders,  have 
^earnt  the  value  of  the  beaver,  and  look  upon 
the  trappers  as  poachers,  who  are  filching  the 
riches  from  their  streams  and  interfering  with 
their  market.  They  make  no  hesitation,  there- 
fore, to  murder  the  solitary  trapper,  and  thus 
destroy  a  competitor,  while  they  possess  them- 
selves of  his  spoils.  It  is  with  regret  we  add, 
too,  that  this  hostility  has  in  many  cases  been 
instigated  by  traders,  desirous  of  injuring  their 
rivals,  but  who  have  themselves  often  reaped 
the  fruits  of  the  mischief  they  have  sown. 

When  two  trappers  undertake  any  consider- 
able stream,  their  mode  of  proceeding  is  to 
hide  their  horses  in  some  lonely  glen  v/here 
they  can  graze  unobserved.  They  then  build 
a  small  hut,  dig  out  a  canoe  from  a  cotton-wood 
tree,  and  in  this  poke  along  shore  silently  in 
the  evening,  and  set  their  traps.  These  they 
revisit  in  the  same  silent  way  at  daybreak. 
When  they  take  any  beaver,  they  bring  it 
home,  skin  it,  stretch  the  skin  on  sticks  to 
dry,  and  feast  upon  the  flesh.  The  body,  hung 
up  before  the  fire,  turns  by  its  own  weight, 
and  is  roasted  in  a  superior  style.  The  tail  is 
the  trapper's  titbit;  it  is  cut  off,  put  on  the 


it.  I 


172 


JSonncvilIc'5  BDvcnturcd 


I).  . 


1 

ii  1 

t 

■  1' 

■  I 

■ ■    i-  '  . 

it  J                 '  ' 

:  !t  , 

:    :  ,1 

['ij; 

\ 

i 

;  • 

if 

IV: 
lli    : 
(  !    : 

■'    i 
j 

'1:      1' 

■    •  \ 

■  ;■ 

r 
1.,  . 

■    i 

^.-.  ^  1 

i  '.1' 

. 

.;'  ': 

*;! 

'1-  ■ 

ll 

i 

II... 

end  of  a  stick,  and  toasted,  and  is  considered 
even  a  greater  dainty  than  the  tongue  or  the 
marrow-bone  of  a  buffalo. 

With  all  their  silence  and  caution,  however, 
the  poor  trappers  cannot  always  escape  their 
hawk-eyed  enemies.  Their  trail  has  been  dis- 
covered, perhaps,  and  followed  up  for  many  a 
mile  ;  or  their  smoke  has  been  seen  curling  up 
out  of  the  secret  glen,  or  has  been  scented  by 
the  savages,  whose  sense  of  smell  is  almost  as 
acute  as  that  of  sight.  Sometimes  they  are 
pounced  upon  when  in  the  act  of  setting  their 
traps  ;  at  other  times,  they  are  roused  from 
their  sleep  by  the  horrid  war-whoop  ;  or,  per- 
haps, have  a  bullet  or  an  arrow  whistling  about 
their  ears,  in  the  midst  of  one  of  their  beaver 
banquets.  In  this  way  they  are  picked  off, 
from  time  to  time,  and  nothing  is  known  of 
them,  until,  perchance,  their  bones  are  found 
bleaching  in  some  lonely  ravine,  or  on  the 
banks  of  some  nameless  stream,  which  from 
that  time  is  called  after  them.  Many  of  the 
small  streams  beyond  the  mountains  thus  per- 
petuate the  names  of  unfortunate  trappers  that 
have  been  murdered  on  their  banks. 

A  knowledge  of  these  dangers  deterred  Cap- 
tain Bonneville,  in  the  present  instance,  from 
detaching  small  parties  of  trappers  as  he  had 
intended ;  for  his  scouts  brought-  him  word 


B  Country  on  fire 


173 


that  formidable  bands  of  the  Banneck  Indians 
were  lying  on  the  Bois^e  and  Payette  rivers, 
at  no  great  distance,  so  that  they  would  be  apt 
to  detect  and  cut  off  any  stragglers.  It  be- 
hooved him,  also,  to  keep  his  party  together, 
to  guard  against  any  predatory  attack  upon 
the  main  body.  He  continued  on  his  way, 
therefore,  without  dividing  his  forces.  And 
fortunate  it  was  that  he  did  so  ;  for  in  a  little 
while,  he  encountered  one  ^f  those  phenomena 
of  the  western  wilds  that  would  effectually 
have  prevented  his  scattered  people  from  find- 
ing each  other  again.  In  a  word,  it  was  the 
season  of  setting  fire  to  the  prairies.  As  he 
advanced,  he  began  to  perceive  great  clouds 
of  smoke  at  a  distance,  rising  by  degrees,  and 
spreading  over  the  whole  face  of  the  country. 
The  atmosphere  became  dry  and  surcharged 
with  murky  vapor,  parching  to  the  skin,  and 
irritating  to  the  eyes.  When  travelling  among 
the  hills,  they  could  scarcely  discern  objects  at 
the  distance  of  a  few  paces  ;  indeed,  the  least 
exertion  of  the  vision  was  painful.  There  was 
evidently  some  vast  conflagration  in  the  direc- 
tion tow  ards  which  they  were  proceeding  ;  it 
was  as  yet  at  a  great  distance,  and  during  the 
day  they  cotdd  only  see  the  smoke  rising  in 
larger  and  denser  volumes,  and  rolling  forth  in 
an  immense  canopy.    At  night,  the  skies  were 


174 


JSonncviUc'a  BDvcnturcs 


m 


I.'. 


all  glowing  with  the  reflection  of  unseen  fires; 
hanging  in  an  immense  body  of  lurid  light, 
high  above  the  horizon. 

Having  reached  Gun  Creek,  an  impoitant 
stream  coming  from  the  left,  Captain  Bonne- 
ville turned  up  its  course,  to  traverse  the 
mountains  and  avoid  the  great  bend  of  the 
Snake  River.  Being  now  out  of  the  range  of 
the  Bannecks,  he  sent  out  his  people  in  all 
directions  to  hunt  the  antelope  for  present 
supplies  ;  keeping  the  dried  meats  for  places 
where  game  might  be  scarce. 

During  four  days  that  the  party  were  ascend- 
ing Gun  Creek,  the  smoke  continued  to  increase 
so  rapidly  it  was  impossible  to  distinguish  the 
face  of  the  country  and  ascertain  landmarks. 
Fortunately  the  travellers  fell  upon  an  Indian 
trail,  which  led  them  to  the  head- waters  of 
the  Fourche  de  Glace,  or  Ice  River,  sometimes 
called  the  Grand  Rond.  Here  they  found  all 
the  plains  and  valleys  wrapped  in  one  vast 
conflagration  ;  which  swept  over  the  long  grass 
ia  billows  of  flame,  shot  up  every  bush  and 
tree,  rose  in  great  columns  from  the  groves, 
and  sent  up  clouds  of  smoke  that  darkened 
the  atmosphere.  To  avoid  this  sea  of  fire,  the 
travellers  had  to  pursue  their  course  close  along 
the  foot  of  the  mountains ;  but  the  irritation 
from  the  smoke  continued  to  be  tormenting. 


Salmon  pUntirul 


175 


n  fires; 
L  light, 

poitant 
Bonne- 
rse  the 
of  the 
ange  of 
ie  in  all 
present 
r  places 

ascend- 
increase 
uish  the 
imarks. 

Indian 
iters  of 
tnetimes 
3und  all 
ne  vast 
ig  grass 
ish  and 

groves, 
arkened 
fire,  the 
se  along 

litatiou 
iting. 


The  country  about  the  head-waters  of  the 
Grand  Rond  spreads  out  into  broad  and  le\cl 
prairies,  extremely  fertile,  and  watered  by 
mountain  springs  and  rivulets.  These  prairies 
are  resorted  to  by  small  bands  of  the  Skynses, 
to  pasture  their  horses  as  well  as  to  banquet 
upon  the  salmon  which  abound  in  the  neigh- 
boring waters.  They  taki  these  fish  in  great 
quantities  and  without  the  least  difficulty  ; 
simply  taking  them  out  of  the  water  with  their 
hands,  as  they  flounder  and  struggle  in  tlie 
numerous  long  shoals  of  the  principal  streams. 
At  the  time  the  travellers  passed  over  these 
prairies,  some  of  the  narrow  deep  streams  by 
which  they  were  intersected  were  completely 
choked  with  salmon,  which  they  took  in  great 
numbers.  The  wolves  and  bears  frequent  these 
streams  at  this  season,  to  avail  themselves  of 
these  great  fisheries. 

The  travellers  continued,  for  many  days,  to 
experience  great  difficulties  and  discomforts 
from  this  wide  conflagration,  which  seemed  to 
embrace  the  whole  wilderness.  The  sun  was 
for  a  great  part  of  the  time  obscured  by  the 
smoke,  and  the  loftiest  mountains  where 
hidden  from  view.  Blundering  along  in  this 
region  of  mist  and  uncertainty,  they  were  fre- 
quently obliged  to  make  long  circuits,  to  avoid 
obstacles  which  they  could  not  perceive  until 


176 


JSotmevtUc'0  Bdvcnturc0 


;     f 


lit  I 

Ik 

'i; 
ill 


¥ 


;'  (■ 


m 


close  upon  them.  The  Indian  trails  were  their 
safest  guides,  for  though  they  sometimes 
appeared  to  lead  them  out  of  their  direct 
course,  they  always  conducted  them  to  the 
passes. 

On  the  26th  of  August  they  reached  the 
head  of  the  Way-lee-way  River.  Here,  in  a 
valley  of  the  mountains  through  which  this 
head- water  makes  its  way,  they  found  a  band 
of  the  Skynses,  who  were  extremely  sociable, 
and  appeared  to  be  well  disposed,  and  as  they 
spoke  the  Nez  Percd  lauguage,  an  intercourse 
was  easily  kept  up  with  them. 

In  the  pastures  on  the  bank  of  this  stream. 
Captain  Bonneville  encamped  for  a  time,  for 
the  purpose  of  recruiting  the  strength  of  his 
horses.  Scouts  were  now  sent  out  to  explore 
the  surrounding  country,  and  search  for  a 
convenient  pass  through  the  mountains  to- 
wards the  Wallamut  or  Multnomah.  After 
an  absence  of  twenty  days,  they  returned 
weary  and  discouraged.  They  had  been 
harassed  and  perplexed  in  rugged  mountain 
defiles,  where  their  progress  was  continually 
impeded  by  rocks  and  precipices.  Often  they 
had  been  obliged  to  travel  along  the  edges  of 
frightful  ravines,  where  a  false  step  would 
have  been  fatal.  In  one  of  these  passes  a 
horse  fell  from  the  brink  of  a  precipice,  and 


a  ®rcat  Coiifla0ration 


177 


would  have  been  dashed  to  pieces  had  he  not 
lodged  among  the  branches  of  a  tree,  from 
which  he  was  extricated  with  great  difficulty. 
These,  however,  were  not  the  worst  of  their 
difficulties  and  perils.  The  great  conflagration 
of  the  country,  which  had  hara.ssed  the  main 
party  in  its  march,  was  still  more  awful  the 
further  this  exploring  party  proceeded.  The 
flames,  which  swept  rapidly  over  the  light 
vegetation  of  the  prairies,  assumed  a  fiercer 
character  and  took  a  stronger  hold  amidst  the 
wooded  glens  and  ravines  of  the  mountains. 
Some  of  the  deep  gorges  and  defiles  sent  up 
sheets  of  flame  and  clouds  of  lurid  smoke, 
and  sparks  and  cinders,  that  in  the  night  made 
them  resemble  the  craters  of  volcanoes.  The 
groves  and  forests,  too,  which  crowned  the 
cliffs,  shot  up  their  towering  columns  of  fire, 
and  added  to  the  furnace  glow  of  the  mountains. 
With  these  stupendous  sights  were  combined 
the  rushing  blasts  caused  by  the  rarefied  air, 
which  roared  and  howled  through  the  narrow 
glens,  and  whirled  forth  the  smoke  and  flames 
in  impetuous  wreaths.  Ever  and  anon,  too, 
was  heard  the  crash  of  falling  trees,  sometimes 
tumbling  from  crags  and  precipices,  with  tre- 
mendous sounds. 

In  the  daytime,  the  mountains  were  wrapped 
in  smoke,  so  dense  and  blinding  that  the  ex- 

VOL   II.-    12 


178 


Xonncv\l{c*B  'B^vcnintee 


it' 
i 


'•'■ 


plorers,  if  by  chance  they  separated,  could 
only  find  each  other  by  shouting.  Often,  too, 
they  had  to  grope  their  way  through  the  yet 
burning  forests,  in  constant  peril  from  the 
limbs  and  trunks  of  trees,  which  frequently 
fell  across  their  path.  At  length  they  gave 
up  the  attempt  to  find  a  pass  as  hopeless,  under 
actual  circumstances,  and  made  their  way 
back  to  the  camp  to  report  their  failure. 


Cbapter  flDl. 


The  Skynses— Their  Traffic — Hunting — Pood— Horses 
— A  Horse-Race — Devotional  Feelings  of  the  Skyn- 
ses, Nez  Percys,  and  Flatheads — Prayers — Exhorta- 
tions— A  Preacher  on  Horseback — Effect  of  Religion 
on  the  Manners  of  the  Tribes — A  New  Light. 


DURING  the  absence  of  this  detachment, 
a  sociable  intercourse  had  been  kept  up 
between  the  main  party  and  the  Skyn- 
ses, who  had  removed  into  the  neighborhood 
of  the  camp.  These  people  dwell  about  the 
waters  of  the  Way-lee-way  and  the  adjacent 
country  and  trade  regularly  with  the  Hudson's 
Bay  Company  ;  generally  giving  horses  in  ex- 
change for  the  articles  of  which  they  stand  in 
need.  They  bring  beaver  skins,  also,  to  the 
trading  posts ;  not  procured  by  trapping,  but 
by  a  course  of  internal  traffic  with  the  shy  and 
ignorant  Shoshokoes  and  Too-el-icans,  who 
keep  in  distant  and  unfrequented  parts  of  the 
country,  and  will  not  venture  near  the  trading 

179 


u. 


\  i 


i  .:  •• 


'"  .   [ 


I      1 


1 

;     1 

1  '. 

i 

j- 

I' 

r 

i8o 


.13onnevtllc'0  BDrcnttirci} 


houses.  The  Skynses  hunt  the  deer  and  elk 
occasionally  ;  and  depend,  for  a  part  of  the  year, 
on  fishing.  Their  main  subsistence,  however, 
is  upon  roots,  especially  the  camash.  This 
bulbous  root  is  said  to  be  of  a  delicious  flavor, 
and  highly  nutricious.  The  women  dig  it  up 
in  great  quantities,  steam  it,  and  deposit  it  in 
caches  for  winter  provisions.  It  grows  spon- 
taneously, and  absolutely  covers  the  plains. 

This  tribe  were  comfortably  clad  and 
equipped.  They  had  a  few  rifles  among  them, 
and  were  extremely  desirous  of  bartering  for 
those  of  Captain  Bonneville's  men,  offering  a 
couple  of  good  running  horses  for  a  light  rifle. 
Their  first-rate  horses,  however,  were  not  to 
be  procu  ed  from  them  on  any  terms.  They 
almost  invariably  use  ponies  ;  but  of  a  breed 
infinitely  superior  to  any  in  the  United  States. 
They  are  fond  of  trying  their  speed  and  bottom, 
and  of  betting  upon  them. 

As  Captain  Bonneville  was  desirous  of  judg- 
ing of  the  comparative  merit  of  their  horses, 
he  purchased  one  of  their  racers,  and  had  a 
trial  of  speed  between  that,  an  American,  and 
a  Shoshonie,  which  were  supposed  to  be  well 
matched.  The  race-course  was  for  the  distance 
of  one  mile  and  a  half  out  and  back.  For  the 
first  half-mile,  the  American  took  the  lead,  by 
a  few  hands ;  but,  losing  his  wind,  soon  fell 


'Relldioud  Sci^iccB 


i8i 


far  behind,  leaving  the  Shoshonie  and  Skynse 
to  contend  together.  For  a  mile  and  a  half,  they 
went  head  and  head  ;  but  at  the  turn  the  Skynse 
took  the  lead,  and  won  the  race  with  great  ease, 
scarce  drawing  a  quick  breath  when  all  was 
over. 

The  Sky  uses,  like  the  Nez  Percys  and  the 
Flatheads,  have  a  strong  devotional  feeling, 
which  has  been  successfully  cultivated  by 
some  of  the  resident  personages  of  the  Hudson's 
Bay  Company.  Sunday  is  invariably  kept 
sacred  among  these  tribes.  They  will  not 
raise  their  camp  on  that  day,  unless  in  extreme 
cases  of  danger  or  hunger ;  neither  will  they 
hunt,  nor  fish,  nor  trade,  nor  perform  any  kind 
of  labor  on  that  day.  A  part  of  it  is  passed  in 
prayer  and  religious  ceremonies.  Some  chief, 
who  is  generally,  at  the  same  time,  what  is 
called  a  "medicine  man,"  assembles  the  com- 
munity. After  invoking  blessings  from  Lhe 
Deity,  he  addresses  the  assemblage,  exhorting 
them  to  good  conduct ;  to  be  diligent  in  provid- 
ing for  their  families,  to  abstain  from  lying 
and  stealing,  to  avoid  quarrelling  or  cheating 
in  their  play,  and  to  be  just  and  hospitable  to 
all  strangers  who  may  be  among  them .  Prayers 
and  exhortations  are  also  made,  early  in 
the  morning  on  week  days.  Sometimes,  all 
this  is   done  by   the  chief,   from  horseback ; 


l82 


JSonneviile's  BOventures 


•I 


moving  slowly  obout  the  camp,  with  his  hat 
on,  and  uttering  his  exh  jrtations  with  a  loud 
voice.  On  all  occasions,  the  bystanders  listen 
with  profound  attention  ;  and  at  the  end  of 
every  sentence  respond  one  word  in  unison — 
apparently  equivalent  to  an  amen.  While 
these  prayers  and  exhortations  are  going  on, 
every  edoloyment  in  the  camp  is  suspended. 
If  an  Indian  is  riding  by  the  place,  he  dis- 
mountSj  holds  his  horse,  and  attends  with 
reverence  until  all  is  done.  When  the  chief 
has  finished  his  prayer  or  exhortation,  he  says, 
'  *  I  have  done, ' '  upon  which  there  is  a  general 
exclamation  in  unison. 

With  these  religious  services,  probably  de- 
rived from  the  white  men,  the  tribes  above- 
mentioned  mingle  some  of  their  old  Indian 
ceremonials ;  such  as  dancing  to  the  cadence 
of  a  song  or  ballad,  which  is  generally  done  in 
a  large  lodge  provided  for  the  purpose.  Besides 
Sundays,  they  likewise  observe  the  cardinal 
holidays  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church. 

Whoever  has  introduced  these  simple  forms 
of  religion  among  these  j[X)or  savages,  has 
evidently  understood  their  characters  and 
cai>acities,  and  effected  a  great  melioration  of 
their  manners.  Of  this  we  speak  not  merely 
from  the  testimony  of  Captain  Bonneville,  but, 
likewise,  from  that  of  Mr.  Wyeth,  who  passed 


Ettcctd  Of  'Religion 


183 


is  hat 
1  loud 
;  listen 
:nd  of 
ison — 
While 
ng  on, 
ended, 
le  dis- 
s  with 
;  chief 
e  says, 
general 

Dly  de- 
above- 
Indian 
adence 
lone  in 
Besides 
ardinal 

• 

;  forms 
iS,  has 
rs  and 
tion  of 
merely 
le,  but, 
passed 


some  months  in  a  travelling  camp  of  the  Flat- 
heads.  "  During  the  time  I  have  been  with 
them,"  sa>  J  he,  **  I  have  never  known  an  in- 
stance of  theft  among  them ;  the  least  thing, 
even  to  a  bead  or  pin,  is  brought  to  you, 
if  found,  and  often  things  that  have  been 
thrown  away.  Neither  have  I  known  any 
quarrelling,  nor  lying.  This  absence  of  all 
quarrelling  the  more  surprised  me,  when  I 
came  to  see  the  various  occasions  that  would 
have  given  rise  to  it  among  the  whites :  the 
crowding  together  of  from  twelve  to  eighteen 
hundred  horses,  which  have  to  be  driven  into 
camp  at  night,  to  be  picketed  ;  to  be  packed 
in  the  morning  ;  the  gathering  of  fuel  in  places 
where  it  is  extremely  scanty.  All  this,  how- 
ever, is  done  without  confusion  or  disturb- 
ance. 

**  They  have  a  mild,  playful,  laughing  dis- 
position ;  and  this  is  portrayed  in  their  coun- 
tenances. They  are  polite,  and  unobtrusive. 
When  one  speaks,  the  rest  pay  strict  attention  ; 
when  he  is  done,  another  assents  by  'yes,'  or 
dissents  by  'no,'  and  then  states  his  reasons, 
which  are  listened  to  with  equal  attention. 
Even  the  children  are  more  peaceable  than 
other  children.  I  never  heard  an  angry  word 
among"  them,  nor  any  quarrelling,  although 
there  were,  at  least,  five  hundred  of  them  to- 


1 84 


JSonnevflle'a  BDt»enture0 


iii 

i-l 


I 

i '  ■' 

;       <' 

n 

gether,  and  continually  at  play.  With  all  this 
quietness  of  spirit,  they  are  brave  when  put  to 
the  test ;  and  are  an  overmatch  for  an  equal 
number  of  Blackfeet." 

The  foregoing  observations,  though  gathered 
from  Mr.  Wyeth  as  relative  to  the  Flatheads, 
apply,  hi  the  main,  to  the  Skynses  also.  Cap- 
tain Bonneville,  during  his  sojourn  with  the 
latter,  t  jk  constant  occasion,  in  conversing 
will  'beir  principal  men,  to  encourage  them  in 
the  t.  ultivation  of  moral  and  religious  habits  ; 
drawii'g  a  comparison  between  their  peaceable 
and  comfortable  course  of  life,  and  that  of  other 
tribes,  and  attributing  it  to  their  superior  sense 
of  morality  and  religion.  He  frequently  at- 
tended their  religious  services,  with  his  people  ; 
always  enjoining  on  the  latter  the  most  reveren- 
tial deportment :  and  he  observed  that  th^  poor 
Indians  were  always  pleased  to  have  the  ^hite 
men  present. 

The  disposition  of  these  tribes  is  evidently 
favorable  to  a  considerable  degree  of  civiliza- 
tion. A  few  farmers,  stitled  among  them, 
might  lead  them,  Captain  Bonneville  thinks, 
to  till  the  earth  and  cultivate  grain — the  coun- 
try of  the  Skynses  and  Nez  Percys  is  admira- 
bly adapted  for  the  raising  of  cattle.  A 
Christian  missionarj^  or  two,  and  some  trifling 
assistance  from  government,  to  protect  them 


5un^al?  Occupations 


185 


ill  this 

put  to 

equal 

thered 
heads, 
Cap- 
ith  the 
rersing 
hem  in 
labits ; 
iceable 
f  other 
r  sense 
itly  at- 
)eople; 
sveren- 
i^poor 
i  "^hite 

idently 
iviliza- 
them, 
thinks, 
2  coun- 
idmira- 
le.  A 
trifling 
them 


from  the  predatory  and  warlike  tribes,  might 
lay  the  foundation  of  a  Christian  people  in  the 
midst  of  the  great  western  wilderness,  who 
would  "  wear  the  Americans  near  their  hearts. ' ' 

We  must  not  omit  to  observe,  however,  in 
qualification  of  the  sanctity  of  this  Sabbath  in 
the  wilderness,  that  these  tribes,  who  are  ar- 
dently addicted  to  gambling  and  horse-racing, 
make  Sunday  a  peculiar  day  for  recreations  of 
the  kind,  not  deeming  them  in  any  wise  out  of 
season.  Afler  prayers  and  pious  ceremonials 
are  over,  there  is  scarce  an  hour  in  the  day, 
says  Captain  Bonneville,  that  you  do  not  see 
several  horses  racing  at  full  speed  ;  and  in 
every  comer  of  the  camp,  are  groups  of  gam- 
blers, ready  to  stake  everything  upon  the  all- 
absorb*  ig  game  of  "hand."  The  Indians, 
says  Wyeth,  appear  to  enjoy  their  amuse  lents 
with  more  zest  than  the  whites.  They  are 
great  gamblers ;  and,  in  proportion  to  their 
means,  play  bolder,  and  bet  higher  than  white 
men. 

The  cultivation  of  the  religious  feeling,  above 
noted  among  the  savages,  has  been,  at  times  a 
convenient  policy  with  some  of  the  more  know- 
ing traders,  who  have  derived  great  credi"  and 
influence  among  them,  by  being  considered 
"medicine  meu,'*  that  is,  men  gifted  with 
mysterious  knowledge.     This  feeling  is,  also, 


i86 


Xonnevillc*B  Bdvc^turcd 


li  ,■  '■ 


at  times,  played  upon  by  religious  charlatans  ; 
who  are  to  be  found  in  savage  as  well  as  civil- 
ized life.  One  of  these  was  noted  by  Wyeth, 
during  his  sojourn  among  the  Flatheads.  A 
new  great  man,  says  he,  is  rising  in  the  camp, 
who  aims  at  power  and  sway.  He  covers  his 
designs  under  the  ample  cloak  of  religion — in- 
culcating some  new  doctrines  and  ceremonials 
among  those  who  are  more  simple  than  him- 
self. He  has  already  made  proselytes  of  one 
fifth  of  the  camp ;  beginning  by  working  on 
the  women,  the  children,  and  the  weak>minded. 
His  followers  are  all  dancing  on  the  plain,  to 
their  own  vocal  music.  The  more  knowing 
ones  of  the  tribe  look  on  and  laugh,  thinking 
it  all  too  foolish  to  do  harm  ;  but  they  will  soon 
find  that  women,  children,  and  fools  form  a 
large  majority  of  every  community,  and  they 
will  have  eventually  to  follow  the  new  light, 
or  be  considered  among  the  profane.  As  soon 
^s  a  preacher,  or  pseudo  prophet  of  the  kind 
gets  followers  enough,  he  either  takes  com- 
mand of  the  tribe,  or  branches  ofi"  and  sets  up 
for  an  independent  chief  and  ' '  medicine  man. '  * 


m  ■   I 


QS^^;r^ 


Cbapter    ftWf^ 

Scarcity  in  the  Camp — Refusal  of  Supplies  by  the 
Hudson's  Bay  Company — Conduct  of  the  Indians — 
A  Hungry  Retreat— John  Day's  River— The  Blue 
Mountains — Salmon  Fishing  on  Snake  River — Mes- 
sengers from  the  Crow  Country — Bear  River  Valley 
— Immense  Migration  of  Buffalo— Danger  of  Buf- 
falo Hunting — A  Wounded  Indian — Eutaw  Indians 
— A  " Surround"  of  Antelopes, 


PROVISIONS  were  now  growing  scanty  in 
the  camp,  and  Captain  B^^nneville  found 
it  necessary  to  seek  a  new  neighborhood. 
Taking  leave,  therefore,  of  his  friends,  the 
Skynses,  he  set  oflF  to  the  westward,  and, 
crossing  a  low  range  of  mountains,  encamped 
on  the  head- waters  of  the  Ottolais.  Being 
now  within  thirty  miles  of  Fort  Wallah-Wal- 
lah, the  trading  post  of  the  Hudson's  Bay 
Company,  he  sent  a  small  detachment  of  men 
thither,  to  purchase  corn  for  the  subsistence  of 
his  party.  The  men  were  well  received  at  the 
fort,   but    all    supplies  for    their  camp  were 

187 


li'i^ 


1 88 


JSouncrilie'd  BDvcnturcd 


!(:;:: 


\y      I 


»! 


promptly  refused.  Tempting  offers  were  made 
tliem,  however,  if  they  would  leave  their  pres- 
ent employ,  and  enter  into  the  service  of  the 
company  ;  but  they  were  not  to  be  seduced. 

When  Captain  Bonneville  saw  his  messengers 
return  empty-handed,  he  ordered  an  instant 
move,  for  there  was  imminent  danger  of  famine. 
He  pushed  forward  down  the  course  of  the 
Ottolais  which  runs  diagonal  to  the  Columbia, 
and  falls  into  it  about  fifty  miles  below  the 
Wallah-Wallah.  His  route  lay  through  a 
beautiful  undulating  country,  covered  with 
horses  belonging  to  the  Skynses,  who  sent 
them  there  for  pasturage. 

On  reaching  the  C  /snmbia.  Captain  Bonne- 
ville hoped  to  open  r,  trade  with  the  natives, 
for  fish  and  other  provisions,  but  to  his  sur- 
prise, they  kept  aloof,  and  even  hid  themselves 
on  his  approach.  He  soon  discovered  that  they 
were  under  the  influence  of  the  Hudson's  Bay 
Company,  who  had  forbidden  them  to  trade, 
or  hold  any  communion  with  him.  He  pro- 
ceeded along  the  Columbia,  but  it  was  every- 
where the  same ;  not  an  article  of  provisions 
was  to  be  obtained  from  the  natives,  and  he 
was,  at  length,  obliged  to  kill  a  couple  of  his 
horses  to  sustain  his  famishing  people.  He 
now  came  to  a  halt,  and  consulted  what  was 
to  be  done.     The  broad  and  beautiful  Columbia 


fi  1>un0rc  l^ctrcnt 


189 


e  made 
ir  pres- 
of  the 
ced. 
iengers 
instant 
famine, 
of  the 
umbia, 
DW  the 
)ugh  a 
d  with 
10  sent 

Bonne- 
latives, 
a'is  sur- 
nselves 
at  they 
I's  Bay 

trade, 
le  pro- 

every- 
ivisions 
and  he 

of  his 
e.  He 
lat  was 
lumbia 


lay  before  them,  smooth  and  unruffled  as  a 
mirror ;  a  little  more  journeying  would  take 
them  to  its  lower  region  ;  to  the  noble  val- 
ley of  the  Wallamut,  their  projected  winter 
quarters.  To  advance  under  present  c'n  m- 
stances  would  be  to  court  starvati' 
resources  of  the  country  were  locked 
them,  by  the  influence  of  a  jealous  and  \  *\ver- 
ful  monopoly.  If  they  reached  the  Wallamut, 
they  could  scarcely  hope  to  obtain  sufficient 
supplies  for  the  winter ;  if  they  lingered  any 
longer  in  the  country,  the  snows  would  gather 
upon  the  mountains  and  cut  oil  their  retreat. 
By  hastening  their  return,  they  would  be  able 
to  reach  the  Blue  Mountains  just  in  time  to 
find  the  elk,  the  deer,  and  the  bighoni ;  and 
after  they  had  supplied  themselves  with  pro- 
visions, they  might  push  through  the  moun- 
tains, before  they  were  entirely  blocked  up  by 
snow.  Influenced  by  these  considerations, 
Captain  Bonneville  reluctantly  turned  his  back 
a  second  time  on  the  Columbia,  and  set  off"  for 
the  Blue  Mountains.  He  took  his  course  up 
John  Day's  River,  so  called  from  one  of  the 
hunters  in  the  original  Astorian  enterprise. 
As  famine  was  at  his  heels,  he  travelled  fast, 
and  reached  the  mountains  by  the  ist  of  Oc- 
tober. He  entered  by  the  opening  made  by 
John  Day's  River  ;  it  was  a  rugged  and  diffi- 


"hi 


"?W| 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0     ^^ISi 

v  lii  12.2 


I.I 


us 

lis 


140 


2.0 


m 


|l.25|iJU||,^            • 

< 

6"     

► 

^ 


c; 


y] 


c%. 


PhotDgrapftic 

Sdoices 
Corporalion 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  MSSO 

(716)«72-4S03 


.>^ 


\ 


.^\^ 


^ 


#.^%. 
>^^ 

^ 


m  I' , 


i 


1;: 


pi 


(\1 


■0 
If 


190 


aBonncville'd  Bdvcntures 


cult  defile,  but  he  and  his  men  had  become 
accustomed  to  hard  scrambles  of  the  kind. 
Fortunately,  the  September  rains  had  extin- 
guished the  fires  which  recently  spread  over 
these  regions ;  and  the  mountains,  no  longer 
wrapped  in  smoke,  now  revealed  all  their 
grandeur  and  sublimity  to  the  eye. 

They  were  disappointed  in  their  expectation 
of  finding  abundant  game  in  the  mountains ; 
large  bands  of  the  natives  had  passed  through, 
returning  from  their  fishing  expeditions,  and 
had  driven  all  the  game  before  them.  It  was 
only  now  and  then  that  the  hunters  could 
bring  in  sufficient  to  keep  the  party  from 
starvation. 

To  add  to  their  distress,  they  mistook  their 
route,  and  wandered  for  ten  days  among  high 
and  bald  hills  of  clay.  At  length,  after  much 
perplexity,  they  made  their  way  to  the  banks 
of  Snake  River,  following  the  course  of  which, 
they  were  sure  to  reach  their  place  of  destina- 
tion. 

It  was  the  20th  of  October  when  they  founu 
themselves  once  more  upon  this  noted  stream. 
The  Shoshokoes,  whom  they  had  met  with  in 
such  scanty  numbers  on  their  journey  down 
the  river,  now  absolutely  thronged  its  banks 
to  profit  by  the  abundance  of  salmon,  and  lay 
up  a  stock  for  wintei  provisions.     Scaffolds 


food  in  Bbundance 


191 


were  everywhere  erected,  and  immense  quan- 
tities of  fish  drying  upon  them.  At  this  season 
of  the  year,  however,  the  salmon  are  extremely 
poor,  and  the  travellers  needed  their  keen  sauce 
of  hunger  to  give  them  a  relish. 

In  some  places  the  shores  were  completely 
covered  with  a  stratum  of  dead  salmon,  ex- 
hausted in  ascending  the  river,  or  destroyed  at 
the  falls ;  the  fetid  odor  of  which  tainted  the 
air. 

It  was  not  until  the  travellers  reached  the 
head-waters  of  the  Portneuf,  that  they  really 
found  themselves  in  a  region  of  abundance. 
Here  the  buffalo  were  in  immense  herds ;  and 
here  they  remained  for  three  days,  slaying,  and 
cooking,  and  feasting,  and  indemnifying  them- 
selves by  an  enormous  carnival,  for  a  long  and 
hungry  lycnt.  Their  horses,  too,  found  good 
pasturage,  and  enjoyed  a  little  rest  after  a 
severe  spell  of  hard  travelling. 

During  this  period,  two  horsemen  arrived 
at  the  camp,  who  proved  to  be  messengers  sent 
express  for  supplies  from  Montero's  party ; 
which  had  been  sent  to  beat  up  the  Crow 
•country  and  the  Black  Hills,  and  to  winter  on 
the  Arkansas.  They  reported  that  all  was 
well  with  the  party,  but  that  they  had  not 
been  able  to  accomplish  the  whole  of  their 
mission,  and  were  still  in  the  Crow  country, 


[(ft:      i 


in. 


If 


1 4 


■m 


192 


J9oniieville'0  BM^ciitured 


i:^' 


mh  m 


mi''::. 


■& 


where  they  should  remain  until  joined  by 
Captain  Bonneville  in  the  spring.  The  cap- 
tain retained  the  messengers  with  him  until 
the  17th  of  November,  when,  having  reached 
the  caches  on  Bear  River,  and  procured  thence 
the  required  supplies,  he  sent  them  back  to 
their  party  ;  appointing  a  rendezvous  towards 
the  last  of  June  following,  on  the  forks  of 
Wind  River  Valley,  in  the  Crow  country. 

He  now  remained  several  days  encamped 
near  the  caches ,  and  having  discovered  a  small 
band  of  Shoshonies  in  his  neighborhood,  pur- 
chased from  them  lodges,  furs,  and  other 
articles  of  winter  comfort,  and  arranged  with 
them  to  encamp  together  during  the  winter. 

The  place  designed  by  the  captain  for  the 
wintering  ground  was  on  the  upper  part  of 
Bear  River,  some  distance  off.  He  delayed 
approaching  it  as  long  as  possible,  in  order  t- 
avoid  driving  oflf  the  buffalo,  which  would  be 
needed  for  winter  provisions.  He  accordingly 
moved  forward  but  slowly,  merely  as  the  want 
of  game  and  grass  obliged  him  to  shift  his 
position.  The  weather  had  already  become 
extremely  cold,  and  the  snow  lay  to  a  consider- 
able depth.  To  enable  the  horses  to  carry  as 
much  dried  meat  as  possible,  he  caused  a 
cache  to  be  made,  in  which  all  the  baggage 
that  could  be  spared  was  deposited.     This 


Ai^ratton  ot  JSuffaloed 


193 


done,  the  party  continued  to  move  slowly  to- 
wards their  winter  quarters. 

They  were  not  doomed,  however,  to  suffer 
from  scarcity  during  the  present  winter.  The 
people  upon  Snake  River  having  chased  off 
the  buffalo  before  the  snow  had  become  deep, 
immense  herds  now  came  trooping  over  the 
mountains ;  forming  dark  masses  on  their 
sides,  from  which  their  deep-mouthed  bellow- 
ing sounded  like  the  low  peals  and  mutterings 
from  a  gathering  thunder-cloud.  In  effect,  the 
cloud  broke,  and  down  came  the  torrent  thun- 
dering into  the  valley.  It  is  utterly  impossible, 
according  to  Captain  Bonneville,  to  convey  an 
idea  of  the  effect  produced  by  the  sight  of  such 
countless  throngs  of  animals  of  such  bulk  and 
spirit,  all  rushing  forward  as  if  swept  on  by  a 
whirlwind. 

The  long  privation  which  the  travellers  had 
suffered  gave  uncommon  ardor  to  their  present 
hunting.  One  of  the  Indians  attached  to  the 
party,  finding  himself  on  horseback  in  the 
midst  of  the  buffaloes,  without  either  rifle  or 
bow  and  arrows,  dashed  after  a  fine  cow  that 
was  passing  close  by  him,  and  plunged  l:ijj 
knife  into  her  side  with  such  lucky  aim  as  to 
bring  her  to  the  ground.  It  was  a  daring 
deed,  but  hunger  had  made  him  almost 
desperate. 

VOL.  II.---X3  " 


lit-- 


u^' 


^'  I 


li,  . 


}'    I 


194 


asottnevflle'd  Bdvcnturcs 


ii! 


!'  ; 


The  buffaloes  are  sometimes  tenadous  of 
life,  and  must  be  wounded  in  particular  parts. 
A  ball  striking  the  shagged  frontlet  of  a  bull, 
produces  no  other  effect  than  a  toss  of  the  head, 
and  greater  exasperation  ;  on  the  contrary,  a 
ball  striking  the  forehead  of  a  cow,  is  fatal. 
Several  instances  occurred  during  this  g^eat 
hunting  bout,  of  bulls  fighting  furiously  after 
having  received  mortal  wounds.  Wyeth,  also, 
was  witness  to  an  instance  of  the  kind  while 
encamped  with  the  Indians.  During  a  grand 
hunt  of  the  buffalo,  one  of  the  Indians  pressed 
a  bull  so  closely  that  the  animal  turned  sud- 
denly upon  him.  His  horse  stopped  short,  or 
started  back,  and  threw  him.  Before  he  could 
rise,  the  bull  rushed  furiously  upon  him,  and 
gored  him  in  the  chest,  so  that  his  breath  came 
out  at  the  aperture.  He  was  conveyed  back 
to  the  camp,  and  his  wound  was  dressed. 
Giving  himself  up  for  slain,  he  called  round 
him  his  friends,  and  made  his  will  by  word  of 
mouth.  It  was  something  like  a  death  chant, 
and  at  the  end  of  every  sentence  those  around 
responded  in  concord.  He  appeared  no  ways 
intimidated  by  the  approach  of  death.  '*  I 
think,"  adds  Wyeth,  "that  the  Indians  die 
better  than  the  white  men  ;  perhaps,  from 
having  less  fear  about  the  future." 

The  buffalo  may  be  approached  very  near, 


B  perpetual  Carttfi^al 


195 


if  the  hunter  keeps  to  the  leeward  ;  but  they 
are  quick  of  scent,  and  will  take  the  alarm  and 
move  off  from  a  party  of  hunters,  to  the  wind- 
ward, even  when  two  miles  distant. 

The  vast  herds  which  had  poured  down  into 
the  Bear  River  Valley,  were  now  snowbound, 
and  remained  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  camp 
throughout  the  winter.  This  famished  the 
trappers  and  their  Indian  friends  a  perpetual 
carnival ;  so  that  to  slay  and  eat  seemed  to  be 
the  main  occupations  of  the  day.  It  is  aston- 
ishing what  loads  of  meat  it  requires  to  cope 
with  the  appetite  of  a  hunting  camp. 

The  ravens  and  wolves  soon  came  in  for  their 
share  of  the  good  cheer.  These  constant  at- 
tendants of  the  hunter  gathered  in  vast  num- 
bers as  the  winter  advanced.  They  might  be 
completely  out  of  sight,  but  at  the  report  of  a 
gun  flights  of  ravens  would  immediately  be 
seen  hovering  in  the  air,  no  one  knew  whence 
they  came;  while  the  sharp  visages  of  the 
wolves  would  peep  down  from  the  brow  of 
every  hill,  waiting  for  the  hunter's  departure, 
to  pounce  upon  the  carcass. 

Besides  the  buffalo,  there  were  other  neigh- 
bors snowbound  in  the  valley,  whose  presence 
did  not  promise  to  be  so  advantageous.  This 
was  a  band  of  Eutaw  Indians,  who  were  en- 
camped higher  up  on  the  river.    They  are  a 


196 


JSonnevlIle'd  B^venturcd 


';:\ 


m 


poor  tribe,  that  in  a  scale  of  the  various  tribes 
inhabiting  these  regions,  would  rank  between 
the  Shoshonies  and  the  Shoshokoes  or  Root 
Diggers  ;  though  more  bold  and  warlike  than 
the  latter.  They  have  but  few  rifles  among 
them,  and  are  generally  armed  with  bows  and 
a.Tows. 

As  this  band  and  the  Shoshonies  were  at 
deadly  feud,  on  account  of  old  grievances,  and 
as  neither  party  stood  in  awe  of  the  other,  it 
was  feared  some  bloody  scenes  might  ensue. 
Captain  Bonneville,  therefore,  undertook  the 
ofiice  of  pacificator,  and  sent  to  the  Kutaw 
chiefs,  inviting  them  to  a  friendly  smoke,  in 
order  to  bring  about  a  reconciliation.  His  in- 
vitation was  proudly  declined ;  whereupon  he 
went  to  them  in  person,  and  succeeded  in 
effecting  a  suspension  of  hostilities,  until  the 
chiefs  of  the  two  tribes  could  meet  in  council. 
The  braves  of  the  two  rival  camps  sullenly  ac- 
quiesced in  the  arrangement.  They  would  take 
their  seats  upon  the  hill  tops,  and  watch  their 
quondam  enemies  hunting  the  buffalo  in  the 
plain  below,  and  evidently  repine,  that  their 
hands  were  tied  up  from  a  skirmish.  The 
worthy  captain,  however,  succeeded  in  carry- 
ing through  his  benevolent  mediation.  The 
chiefs  met ;  the  amicable  pipe  was  smoked; 
the  hatchet  buried,  and  peace  formally  pro- 


Surround  of  Bntelopcd 


197 


claimed.  After  this,  both  camps  united  and 
mingled  in  social  intercourse.  Private  quarrels, 
however,  would  occasionally  occur  in  hunting, 
about  the  division  of  the  game,  and  blows 
would  sometimes  be  exchanged  over  the  carcass 
of  a  buffalo ;  but  the  chiefs  wisely  took  no 
notice  of  these  individual  brawls. 

One  day,  the  scouts,  who  had  been  ranging 
the  hills,  brought  news  of  several  large  herds 
of  antelopes  in  a  small  valley  at  no  great  dis- 
tance. This  produced  a  sensation  among  the 
Indians,  for  both  tribes  were  in  ragged  con- 
dition, and  sadly  in  want  of  those  shirts  made 
of  the  skin  of  the  antelope.  It  was  determined 
to  have  **  a  surround,**  as  the  mode  of  hunting 
that  animal  is  called.  Everything  now  as- 
sumed an  air  of  mystic  solemnity  and  import- 
ance. The  chiefs  prepared  their  medicines  or 
charms,  each  according  to  his  own  method,  or 
fancied  inspiration,  generally  with  the  com- 
pound of  certain  simples  ;  others  consulted  the 
entrails  of  animals  which  they  had  sacrificed, 
and  thence  drew  favorable  auguries.  After 
much  grave  smoking  and  deliberating,  it  was 
at  length  proclaimed,  that  all  who  were  able 
to  lift  a  club,  man,  woman,  or  child,  should 
muster  for  **the  surround."  When  all,  had 
congregated,  they  moved  in  rude  procession 
1:9  the  nearest  point  of  the  valley  in  question, 


.m 


I  \ 


198 


J8onnevU(€'0  Bdventuree 


pi' 


r   ?  1 


s*. 


'^^  - 


and  thei^  halted.  Another  course  of  smoking 
and  deliberating,  of  which  the  Indians  are  so 
fond,  took  place  among  the  chiefs.  Directions 
were  then  issued  for  the  horsemen  to  make  a 
circuit  of  about  seven  miles,  so  as  to  encompass 
the  herd.  When  this  was  done,  the  whole 
mounted  force  dashed  off,  simultaneously,  at 
full  speed,  shouting  and  yelling  at  the  top  of 
their  voices.  In  a  short  space  of  time  the 
antelopes,  started  from  their  hiding  places, 
came  bounding  from  all  points  into  the  valley. 
The  riders  now  gradually  contracting  their 
circle,  brought  them  nearer  and  nearer  to  the 
spot  where  the  senior  chief,  surrounded  by 
the  elders,  male  and  female,  was  seated  in  super- 
vision of  the  chase.  The  antelopes,  nearly 
exhausted  with  fatigue  and  fright,  and  be- 
wildered by  perpetual  whooping,  made  no 
effort  to  break  through  the  ring  of  the  hunters, 
but  ran  round  in  small  circles,  until  man, 
woman,  and  child  beat  them  down  with  bludg- 
eons. Such  is  the  nature  of  that  species  of 
antelope  hunting,  technically  called  "  a  sur- 
round.'* 


I  p- ) 


hfr;  r 


Cbapter  f\om. 

A  Festive  Winter — Conversion  of  the  Shoshoniet— 
Visit  of  Two  Free  Trappers— Ggyety  in  the  Camp— 
A  Touch  of  the  Tender  Passion — The  Reclaimed 
Squaw— An  Indian  Fine  Lady — An  Elopement — A 
Pursuit— Market  Value  of  a  Bad  Wife. 


GAME  continued  to  abound  throughout 
the  winter ;  and  the  camp  was  over- 
stocked with  provisions.  Beef  and 
venison,  humps  and  haunches,  buffalo  tongues 
and  marrow-bones,  were  constantly  cooking  at 
every  fire ;  and  the  whole  atmosphere  was 
redolent  with  the  savory  fumes  of  roast  meat. 
It  was,  indeed,  a  continual '  *  feast  of  fat  things, ' ' 
and  though  there  might  be  a  lack  of  '*wine 
upon  the  lees,**  yet  we  have  shown  that  a 
substitute  was  occasionally  to  be  found  in  honey 
and  alcohol. 

Both  the  Shoshonies  and  the  Eutaws  con- 
ducted themselves  with  great  propriety.  It  is 
true,  they  now  and  then  filched  a  few  trifles 
firom  their  good  friends,  the  Big  Hearts,  when 

199 


li  I' If 


;  L 


M 


JSoiincvillc'd  a^t?enture0 


llicir  backs  were  turned  ;  but  then,  they  always 
treated  them  to  their  faces,  with  the  utmost 
deference  and  respect ;  and  good-humored ly 
vied  with  the  trappers  in  all  kinds  of  feats  of 
activity  and  mirthful  sports.  The  two  tribes 
maintained  towards  each  other,  also,  a  friend- 
liness of  aspect,  which  gave  Captain  Bonneville 
reason  to  hope  that  all  past  animosity  was 
effectually  buried. 

The  two  rival  bands,  however,  had  not  long 
been  mingled  in  this  social  manner,  before 
their  ancient  jealousy  began  to  break  out,  in  a 
new  form.  The  senior  chief  of  the  Shoshonies 
was  a  thinking  man,  and  a  man  of  observation. 
He  had  been  among  the  Nez  Percys,  listened 
to  their  new  code  of  morality  and  religion  re- 
ceived from  the  white  men,  and  attended  their 
devotional  exercises.  He  had  observed  the 
effect  of  all  this,  in  elevating  the  tribe  in  the 
estimation  of  the  white  men  ;  and  determined, 
by  the  same  means,  to  gain  for  his  own  tribe 
a  stiperiority  over  their  ignorant  rivals,  the 
Eutaws.  He  accordingly  assembled  his  people, 
promulgated  them  among  the  mongrel  doc- 
trines and  form  of  worship  of  the  Nez*  Percys ; 
recommending  the  same  to  their  adoption. 
The  Shoshonies  were  struck  with  the  novelty, 
at  least,  of  the  measure,  and  entered  into  it 
with  spirit.     They  began  to  observe  Sundays 


J  \ 


Cwo  Dtditora 


20I 


and  holidays,  and  to  have  their  devotional 
dances,  and  chants,  and  other  ceremonials, 
about  which  the  ignorant  Eutaws  knew  noth- 
ing ;  while  they  exerted  their  usual  competition 
in  shooting  and  horse-racing,  and  the  renowned 
game  of  hand. 

Matters  were  going  on  thus  pleasantly  and 
prosperously,  in  this  motley  community  of 
white  and  red  men,  when,  one  morning,  two 
stark  free  trappers,  arrayed  in  the  height  of 
savage  finery,  and  mounted  on  steeds  as  fine 
and  as  fiery  as  themselves,  and  all  jingling 
with  hawk's  bells,  came  galloping,  with  whoop 
and  halloo,  into  the  camp. 

They  were  fresh  from  the  winter  encampment 
of  the  American  Fur  Company,  in  the  Green 
River  Valley  ;  and  had  come  to  pay  their  old 
comrades  of  Captain  Bonneville's  company  n 
visit.  An  idea  may  now  be  formed,  from  the 
scenes  we  have  already  given  of  conviviality  in 
the  wilderness,  of  the  manner  in  which  these 
game  birds  were  received  by  those  of  their 
feather  in  the  camp  ;  what  feasting,  what  rev- 
eling, what  boasting,  what  bragging,  what 
ranting  and  roaring,  racing  and  gambling,  and 
squabbling  and  fighting,  ensued  among  these 
boon  companions.  Captain  Bonneville,  it  is 
true,  maintained  always  a  certain  degree  of 
law  and  order  in  his  camp,  and  checked  each 


9oa 


XonncviHc'e  BDventured 


ml  ■ 


li;'' 


fierce  excess  ;  but  the  trappers,  in  their  seasons 
of  idleness  and  relaxation,  require  a  degree  of 
license  and  indulgence,  to  repay  them  for  the 
long  privations,  and  almost  incredible  hard- 
ships of  their  periods  of  active  service. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  feasting  and  frolick- 
ing, a  freak  of  tender  passion  intervened,  and 
wrought  a  complete  change  in  the  scene. 
Among  the  Indian  beauties  in  the  camp  of  the 
Eutaws  and  Shoshonies,  the  free  trappers  dis- 
covered two,  who  had  whilom  figured  as  their 
squaws.  These  connections  frequently  take 
place  for  a  season,  and  sometimes  continue  for 
years,  if  not  perpetually  ;  but  are  apt  to  be 
broken  when  the  free  trapper  starts  off,  sud- 
denly, on  some  distant  and  rough  expedition. 

In  the  present  instance,  these  wild  blades 
were  anxious  to  regain  their  belles ;  nor  were 
the  latter  loath  once  more  to  cone  under  their 
protection.  The  free  trapper  coniMnes,  in  the 
eye  of  an  Indian  girl,  all  that  is  dashing  and 
heroic  in  a  warrior  of  her  own  race,  whose  gait, 
and  garb,  and  bravery  he  emulates,  with  all 
that  is  gallant  and  glorious  in  the  white  man. 
And  then  the  indulgence  with  which  he  treats 
her,  the  finery  in  which  he  decks  her  out,  the 
state  in  which  she  moves,  the  sway  she  enjoys 
over  both  his  purse  and  person,  instead  of  be- 
ing the  drudge  and  slave  of  an  Indian  hus- 


Butaw  :n3cauti? 


903 


band  ;  obliged  to  carry  his  pack,  and  build  his 
lodge,  and  make  his  fire,  and  bear  his  cross 
humors  and  dry  blows.  —  No  ;  there  is  no  com- 
parison, in  the  eyes  of  an  aspiring  belle  of  the 
wilderness,  between  a  free  trapper  and  an 
Indian  brave. 

With  respect  to  one  of  the  parties,  the  matter 
was  easily  arranged.  The  beauty  in  question 
was  a  pert  little  Eutaw  wench,  that  had  been 
taken  prisoner,  in  some  war  excursion,  by  a 
Shoshonie.  She  was  readily  ransomed  for  a 
few  articles  of  trifling  value  :  and  forthwith 
figured  about  the  camp  in  fine  array,  "with 
rings  on  her  fingers  and  bells  on  her  toes,"  and 
a  tossed-up  coquettish  air,  that  made  her  the 
envy,  admiration,  and  abhorrence  of  all  the 
leathern-dressed,  hard-working  squaws  of  her 
acquaintance. 

As  to  the  other  beauty,  it  was  quite  a  differ- 
ent matter.  She  had  become  the  wife  of  a 
Shoshonie  brave.  It  is  true,, he  had  another 
wife,  of  older  date  than  the  one  in  question : 
who,  therefore,  took  command  in  his  house- 
hold, and  treated  his  new  spouse  as  a  slave ; 
but  the  latter  was  the  wife  of  his  last  fancv, 
his  latest  caprice  ;  and  was  precious  in  his. 
eyes.  All  attempt  to  bargain  with  him,  there- 
fore, was  useless ;  the  very  proposition  was 
repulsed  with  anger  and  disdain.     The  spirit 


i 

7 


■ii 


»!  : 


i- 


204 


XonncvHic*B  Bdvcntured 


of  the  trapper  was  roused,  his  pride  was  piqued 
as  well  as  his  passion.  He  endeavored  to  pre- 
vail upon  his  quondam  mistress  to  elope  with 
him.  His  horses  were  fleet,  the  winter  nights 
were  long  and  dark,  before  daylight  they 
would  be  beyond  the  reach  of  pursuit ;  and 
once  at  the  encampment  in  Green  River  Valley, 
they  might  set  the  whole  band  of  Shoshonies 
at  defiance. 

The  Indian  girl  listened  and  longed.  Her 
heart  yearned  after  the  ease  and  splendor  of 
condition  of  a  trapper's  bride,  and  throbbed  to 
be  freed  from  the  capricious  control  of  a  pre- 
mier squaw ;  but  she  dreaded  the  failure  of  the 
plan,  and  the  fury  of  a  Shoshonie  husband. 
They  parted ;  the  Indian  girl  in  tears,  and  the 
madcap  trapper  more  mad  than  ever,  with  his 
thwarted  passion. 

Their  interviews  had,  probably,  been  de- 
tected, and  the  jealousy  of  the  Shoshonie  brave 
aroused:  a  clamor  of  angry  voices  heard  in 
his  lodge,  with  the  sound  of  blows,  and  of 
female  weeping  and  lamenting.  At  night,  as 
the  trapper  lay  tossing  on  his  pallet,  a  soft 
voice  whispered  at  the  door  of  his  lodge.  His 
mistress  stood  trembling  before  him.  She  was 
ready  to  follow  whithersoever  he  should  lead. 

In  an  instant,  he  was  up  and  out.  He  had 
two  prime  horses,  sure,  and  swift*  of  foot,  and 


(Tbe  Veclaii^;    >  Squaw 


205 


LS  piqued 
d  to  pre- 
ope  with 
it  nights 
rht  they 
uit ;  and 
T  Valley, 
loshonies 

ed.  Her 
lender  of 
robbed  to 
of  a  pre- 
ure  of  the 
husband, 
p,  and  the 
with  his 

t)een  de- 
nie  brave 
heard  in 
and  of 
night,  as 
it,  a  soft 
Ige.  His 
She  was 
>uld  lead. 
He  had 
foot,  and 


of  great  wind.  With  stealthy  quiet,  they  were 
brought  up  and  saddled ;  and,  in  a  few  mo- 
ments, he  and  his  prize  were  careering  over 
the  snow,  with  which  the  whole  country  was 
covered.  In  the  eagerness  of  escape,  they  had 
made  no  provision  for  their  journey ;  days 
must  elapse  before  they  could  reach  tlieir  haven 
of  safety,  and  mountains  and  prairies  be  trav- 
ersed, wrapped  in  all  the  desolation  of  winter. 
For  the  present,  however,  they  thought  of 
nothing  but  flight;  urging  their  horses  for- 
ward over  the  dreary  wastes,  and  fancying,  in 
the  howling  of  every  blast,  they  heard  the  yell 
of  the  pursuer. 

At  early  dawn  the  Shoshonie  became  aware 
of  his  loss.  Mounting  his  swiftest  horse,  he 
set  off  in  hot  pursuit.  He  soon  found  the  trail 
of  the  fugitives,  and  spurred  on  in  the  hopes 
of  overtaking  them.  The  winds,  however, 
which  swept  the  valley,  had  drifted  the  light 
snow  into  the  prints  made  by  the  horses'  hoofs. 
In  a  little  while  he  lost  all  trace  of  them,  and 
was  completely  thrown  out  of  the  chase.  He 
knew,  however,  the  situation  of  the  camp  tow- 
ard which  they  were  bound,  and  a  direct  course 
through  the  mountains,  by  which  he  might 
arrive  there  sooner  than  the  fugitives.  Through 
the  most  rugged  defiles,  therefore,  he  urged  his 
course  by  day  and  night,  scarce  pausing  until 


^^k5«S^ 


306 


JSonnevillc'd  BDvcnturcd 


'.'  ! 


>vf  - 


ns:  i 


If ,;  h 


:$? 


he  reached  the  camp.  It  was  some  time  before 
the  fugitives  made  their  appearance.  Six  days 
had  they  been  traversing  the  wintry  wilds. 
They  came,  haggard  with  hunger  and  fatigue, 
and  their  horses  faltering  under  them.  The 
first  object  that  met  their  eyes,  on  entering  the 
camp,  was  the  Shoshonie  brave.  He  rushed, 
knife  in  hand,  to  plunge  it  in  the  heart  that 
had  proved  false  to  him.  The  trapper  threw 
himself  before  the  cowering  form  of  his  mis- 
tress, and,  exhausted  as  he  was,  prepared  for 
a  deadly  struggle.  The  Shoshonie  paused. 
His  habitual  awe  of  the  white  man  checked 
his  arm  ;  the  trapper's  friends  crowded  to  the 
spot  and  arrested  him.  A  parley  ensued.  A 
kind  of  crtm.  con.  adjudication  took  place ; 
such  as  frequently  occurs  in  civilized  life.  A 
couple  of  horses  were  declared  to  be  a  fair  com- 
pensation for  the  loss  of  a  woman  who  had 
previously  lost  her  heart ;  with  this,  the  Sho- 
shonie brave  was  fain  to  pacify  his  passion. 
iio.  returned  to  Captain  Bonneville's  camp, 
somewhat  crest-fallen,  it  is  true ;  but  parried 
the  ofl&cious  condolements  of  his  friends,  by 
observing,  that  two  good  horses  were  good  pay 
for  one  bad  wife. 


mt 


Cbapter  f  f  f . 

Breaking  up  of  Winter  Quarters — Move  to  Green 
River — A  Trapper  and  his  Rifle — ^An  Arrival  in 
Camp — A  Free  Trapper  and  his  Squaw  in  Distress — 
Story  of  a  Blackfoot  Belle. 


THE  winter  was  now  breaking  up,  the 
snows  were  melted  from  the  hills,  and 
from  the  lower  parts  of  the  mountains, 
and  the  time  for  decamping  had  arrived. 
Captain  Bonneville  despatched  a  party  to  the 
caches^  who  brought  away  all  the  effects  con- 
cealed there,  and  on  the  ist  of  April  (1835), 
the  camp  was  broken  up,  and  every  one  on  the 
move.  The  white  men  had  their  allies,  the 
Eutaws  and  Shoshonies,  parted  with  many 
regrets  and  sincere  expressions  of  good-will, 
for  their  intercourse  throughout  the  winter 
had  been  of  the  most  friendly  kind. 

Captain  Bonneville  and  his  party  passed  by 
Ham's  Fork,  and  reached  the  Colorado,  or 
Green  River,  without  accident,  on  the  banks 

207 


208 


JSonnevilIc'0  BDi?enturc0 


h  . 


of  which  they  remained  during  the  residue  of 
the  spring.  During  this  time,  they  were 
conscious  that  a  band  of  hostile  Indians  were 
hovering  about  their  vicinity,  watching  for  an 
opportunity  to  slay  or  steal ;  but  the  vigilant 
precautions  of  Captain  Bonneville  baffled  all 
their  manoeuvers.  In  such  dangerous  times, 
the  experienced  mountaineer  is  never  without 
his  rifle,  even  in  camp.  On  going  from  lodge 
to  lodge  to  visit  his  comrades,  he  takes  it  with 
him.  On  seating  himself  in  a  lodge,  he  lays 
it  beside  him,  ready  to  be  snatched  up  ;  when 
he  goes  out,  he  takes  it  up  as  regularly  as  a 
citizen  would  his  walking  staff.  His  rifle  is  his 
constant  friend  and  protector. 

On  the  loth  of  June,  the  party  were  a  little 
to  the  east  of  the  Wind  River  Mountains, 
where  they  halted  for  a  time  in  excellent  pas- 
turage, to  give  their  horses  a  chance  to  recruit 
their  strength  for  a  long  journey  ;  for  it  was 
Captain  Bonneville's  intention  to  shape  his 
course  to  the  settlements ;  having  already  been 
detained  by  the  complication  of  his  duties, 
and  by  various  losses  and  impediments,  far 
beyond  the  time  specified  in  his  leave  of 
absence. 

While  the  party  was  thus  reposing  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  Wind  River  Moun- 
tains, a  solitary  free  trapper  rode  one  day  into 


Bn  firrfval  fn  Camp 


209 


the  camp,  and  accosted  Captain  Bonneville. 
He  belonged,  he  said,  to  a  party  of  thirty 
hunters,  who  had  just  passed  through  the 
neighborhood,  but  -whom  he  had  abandoned 
in  consequence  of  their  ill  treatment  of  a 
brother  trapper ;  whom  they  had  cast  off  from 
their  party,  and  left  with  his  bag  and  baggage, 
and  an  Indian  wife  into  the  bargain,  in  the 
midst  of  a  desolate  prairie.  The  horseman 
gave  a  piteous  account  of  the  situation  of  this 
helpless  pair,  and  solicited  the  loan  of  horses 
to  bring  them  and  their  effects  to  the  camp. 

The  captain  was  not  a  man  to  refuse  assist- 
ance to  any  one  in  distress,  especially  when 
there  was  a  woman  in  the  case ;  horses  were 
immediately  dispatched,  with  an  escort,  to 
aid  the  unfortunate  couple.  The  next  day, 
they  made  their  appearance  with  all  their 
effects  :  the  man,  a  stalwart  mountaineer,  with 
a  peculiarly  game  look  ;  the  woman,  a  young 
Blackfoot  beauty,  arrayed  in  the  trappings 
and  trinketry  of  a  free  trapper's  bride. 

Finding  the  woman  to  be  quick-witted  and 
communicative.  Captain  Bonneville  entered 
into  conversation  with  her,  and  obtained  from 
her  many  particulars  concerning  the  habits 
and  customs  of  her  tribe  ;  especially  their 
wars  and  huntings.  They  pride  themselves 
upon  being  the  "  best  legs  of  the  mountains,*' 

VOL.  II.— 14 


2IO 


Xonncvillc*6  'BbventnvcB 


■  (■■ 


W  ', 


W: 


rn] 


and  hunt  the  buffalo  on  foot.  This  is  done  in 
spiing-time,  when  the  frosts  have  thawed  and 
the  ground  is  soft.  The  heavy  buffalo  then 
sink  over  their  hoofs  at  •  every  step,  and  are 
easily  overtaken  by  the  Blackfeet ;  whose  fleet 
steps  press  lightly  on  the  surface.  It  is  said, 
however,  that  the  buffalo  on  the  Pacific  side 
of  the  Rocky  Mountains  are  fleeter  and  more 
active  than  on  the  Atlantic  side ;  those  upon 
the  plains  of  the  Columbia  can  scarcely  be 
overtaken  by  a  horse  that  would  outstrip  the 
same  animal  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Platte, 
the  usual  hunting  ground  of  the  Blackfeet. 
In  the  course  of  further  conversation.  Captain 
Bonneville  drew  from  the  Indian  woman  her 
whole  story ;  which  gave  a  picture  of  savage 
life,  and  of  the  drudgery  and  hardships  to 
which  an  Indian  wife  is  subject. 

**  I  was  the  wife,"  said  she,  "  of  a  Blackfoot 
warrior,  and  I  served  him  faithfully.  Who 
was  so  well  served  as  he  ?  Whose  lodge  was 
so  well  provided,  or  kept  so  clean  ?  I  brought 
wood  in  the  morning,  and  placed  water  always 
at  hand.  I  watched  for  his  coming  ;  and  he 
found  his  meat  cooked  and  ready.  If  he  rose 
to  go  forth,  there  was  nothing  to  delay  him. 
I  searched  the  thought  that  was  in  his  heart, 
to  save  him  the  trouble  of  speaking.  When  I 
went  abroad  on  errands  for  him,  the  chiefs  and 


'W" 


store  ot  tbe  JSIacfifoot  JSridc 


211 


warriors  smiled  upon  me,  and  the  young  braves 
spoke  soft  things  in  secret ;  but  my  feet  were 
in  the  straight  path,  and  my  eyes  could  see 
nothing  but  him. 

**  When  he  went  out  to  hunt,  or  to  war,  who 
aided  to  equip  him,  but  I  ?  When  he  returned, 
I  met  him  at  the  door  ;  I  took  his  gun  ;  and 
he  entered  without  further  thought.  While 
he  sat  and  smoked,  I  unloaded  his  horses  ; 
tied  them  to  the  stakes  ;  brought  in  their  loads, 
and  was  quickly  at  his  feet.  If  his  moccasins 
were  wet,  I  took  them  off  and  put  on  others 
which  were  dry  and  warm.  I  dressed  all  the 
skins  he  had  taken  in  the  chase.  He  could 
never  say  to  me,  why  is  it  not  done?  He 
hunted  the  deer,  the  antelope,  and  the  buffalo, 
and  he  watched  for  the  enemy.  Everything 
else  was  done  by  me.  When  our  people  moved 
their  camp,  he  mounted  his  horse  and  rode 
away  ;  free  as  though  he  had  fallen  from  the 
skies.  He  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  labor 
of  the  camp  ;  it  was  I  that  packed  the  horses, 
and  led  them  on  the  journey.  When  we  halted 
in  the  evening,  and  he  sat  with  the  other  braves 
and  smoked,  it  was  I  that  pitched  his  lodge  ; 
and  when  he  jame  home  to  eat  and  sleep, 
his  supper  and  his  bed  was  ready. 

"  I  served  him  faithfully  ;  and  what  was  my 
reward  ?  A  cloud  was  always  on  his  brow,  and 


'f  . 

V 


i  1'  • 


.ff 


I' 


■  ■  %  ■ 


;jT 


nm 


aia 


JSonncvilIe'0  BDventurce 


sharp  lightning  on  his  tongue.    I  was  his  dog ; 
and  not  his  wife. 

"  Who  was  it  that  scarred  and  bruised  me  ? 
It  was  he.  My  brother  saw  how  I  was  treated. 
His  heart  was  big  for  me.  He  begged  me  to 
leave  my  tyrant  and  fly.  Where  could  I  go  ? 
If  retaken,  who  would  protect  me  ?  My  brother 
was  not  a  chief ;  he  could  not  save  me  from 
blows  and  wounds,  perhaps  death.  At  length 
I  was  persuaded.  I  followed  my  brother  from 
the  village.  He  pointed  the  way  to  the  Nez 
Percys,  and  bade  me  go  and  live  in  peace  among 
them.  We  parted.  On  the  third  day  I  saw 
the  lodges  of  the  Nez  Percys  before  me.  I 
paused  for  a  moment,  and  had  no  heart  to  go 
on  ;  but  my  horse  neighed,  and  I  took  it  as  a 
good  sign,  and  suffered  him  to  gallop  forward. 
In  a  little  while  I  was  in  the  midst  of  the 
lodges.  As  I  sat  silent  on  my  horse,  the  peo- 
ple gathered  round  me,  and  inquired  whence  I 
came.  I  told  my  story.  A  chief  now  wrapped 
his  blanket  close  around  him,  and  bade  me  dis- 
mount. I  obeyed.  He  took  my  horse  to  lead 
him  away.  My  heart  grew  small  within  me. 
I  felt,  on  parting  with  my  horse,  as  if  my  last 
friend  was  gone.  I  had  no  \vords,  and  my 
eyes  were  dry.  As  he  led  off  my  horse,  a 
young  brave  stepped  forward.  'Are  you  a 
chief  of  the  people  ? '  cried  he.     *  Do  we  listen 


B  JSIaclifoot  JSelte 


213 


to  you  in  council,  and  follow  you  in  battle? 
Behold  !  a  stranger  flies  to  our  camp  from  the 
dogs  of  Blackfeet,  and  asks  protection.  Let 
shame  cover  your  face !  The  stranger  is  a 
woman,  and  alone.  If  she  were  a  warrior,  or 
had  a  warrior  by  her  side,  your  heart  would  not 
be  big  enough  to  take  her  horse.  But  he  is 
yours.  By  the  right  of  war  you  may  claim  him  ; 
but  look  ! ' — his  bow  was  drawn,  and  the  arrow 
ready  ! — '  you  never  shall  cross  his  back  !  * 
The  arrow  pierced  the  heart  of  the  horse,  and 
he  fell  dead. 

' '  An  old  woman  said  she  would  be  my 
mother.  She  led  me  to  her  lodge :  my  heart 
was  thawed  by  her  kindness,  and  my  eyes  burst 
forth  with  tears ;  like  the  frozen  fountains  in 
spring-time.  She  never  changed  ;  but  as  the 
days  passed  away,  was  still  a  mother  to  me. 
The  people  were  loud  in  praise  of  the  young 
brave,  and  the  chief  was  ashamed.  I  lived  in 
peace. 

"  A  party  of  trappers  came  to  the  village, 
and  one  of  them  took  me  for  his  wife.  This  is 
he.  I  am  very  happy  ;  he  treats  me  with  kind- 
ness, and  I  have  taught  him  the  language  of 
my  people.  As  we  were  travelling  this  way, 
some  of  the  Blackfeet  warriors  beset  us,  and 
carried  off  the  horses  of  the  party.  We  fol- 
lowed, and  my  husband  held  a  parley  with 


' 


I 


I 


214 


Xonncvillc*B  H^vcntutcB 


them.  The  guns  were  laid  down,  and  the  pipe 
was  lighted  ;  but  some  of  the  white  men  at- 
tempted to  seize  the  horses  by  force,  and  then 
a  battle  began.  The  snow  was  deep ;  the 
white  men  sank  into  it  at  every  step  ;  but  the 
red  men,  with  their  snow-shoes,  passed  over  the 
surface  like  birds,  and  drove  off  many  of  the 
horses  in  sight  of  their  owners.  With  those 
that  remained  we  resumed  our  journey.  At 
length  words  took  place  between  the  leader  of 
the  party  and  my  husband.  He  took  away  our 
horses,  which  had  escaped  in  the  battle,  and 
turned  us  from  his  camp.  My  husband  had 
one  good  friend  among  the  trappers.  That  is 
he  (pointing  to  the  man  who  had  asked  assist- 
ance for  them).  He  is  a  good  man.  His  heart 
is  big.  When  he  came  in  from  hunting,  and 
found  that  we  had  been  driven  away,  he  gave 
up  all  his  wages,  and  followed  us,  that  he 
might  speak  good  words  for  us  to  the  white 
captain." 


■'M-i 


Cbaptet  f  f  • 

k  P.f'rdezvous  at  Wind  River — Canipaign  of  Montero 
and  his  Brigade  in  the  Crow  Country — Wars  between 
tbe  Crows  and  Blackfeet — Death  of  Arapooish — 
Blackfeet  Lurkers — Sagacity  of  the  Horse — Depend- 
ence of  the  Hunter  on  his  Horse — Return  to  the 
Settlements. 


ON  the  22d  of  June,  Captain  Bonneville 
raised  his  camp,  and  moved  to  the 
forks  of  Wind  River ;  the  appointed 
place  of  rendezvous.  In  a  few  days,  he  was 
joined  there  by  the  brigade  of  Montero,  which 
had  been  sent,  in  the  preceding  year,  to  beat 
up  the  Crow  country,  and  afterwards  proceed 
to  the  Arkansas.  Montero  had  followed  the 
early  part  of  his  instructions ;  after  trapping 
u|  jii  some  of  the  upper  streams,  he  proceeded 
to  Powder  River.  Here  he  fell  in  with  the 
Crow  villages  or  bands,  who  treated  him  with 
unusual  kindness,  and  prevailed  upon  him  to 
take  up  his  winter-quarters  among  them. 


2lA 


JSonncvilIe'0  Bdvcntutes 


I** 


The  Crows,  at  that  time,  were  struggling  al- 
most for  existence  with  their  old  enemies,  the 
Blackfeet ;  who,  in  the  past  year,  had  picked 
off  the  flower  of  their  warriors  in  various  en- 
gagements, and  among  the  rest,  Arapooish,  the 
friend  .  5  the  whitv.  men.  That  sagacious  and 
magnanimous  chief,  had  beheld,  with  grief,  the 
ravages  which  war  was  making  in  his  tribe, 
and  that  it  was  declining  in  force,  ind  must 
eventually  be  destroyed,  unless  some  signal 
blow  could  be  struck  to  retrieve  its  fortunes. 
In  a  pitched  battle  of  the  two  tribes,  he  made 
a  speech  to  his  warriors,  urging  them  to  set 
everything  at  hazard  in  one  furious  charge  ; 
which  done,  he  led  the  way  into  the  thickest 
of  the  foe.  He  was  soon  separated  from  his 
men,  and  fell  covered  wiih  wounds,  but  his 
self-devotion  was  not  in  vain.  The  Blackfeet 
were  defeated  ;  and  from  that  time  the  Crows 
plucked  up  fresh  heart,  and  were  frequently 
successful. 

Montero  had  not  been  long  encamped  among 
them,  when  he  discovered  that  the  Blackfeet 
were  hovering  about  the  neighborhood.  One 
day  the  hunters  came  galloping  into  the  camp, 
and  proclaimed  that  a  band  of  the  enemy  was 
at  hand.  The  Crows  flew  to  arms,  leaped  on 
their  horses,  and  dashed  out  in  squadrons  in 
pursuit.    They  overtook  the  retreating  enemy 


,!■    .  ■! 


B  Desperate  figbt 


217 


in  the  midst  of  a  plain.  A  desperate  fight  en- 
sued. The  Crows  had  the  advantage  of  num- 
bers, and  of  fighting  on  horseback.  The 
greater  part  of  the  Blackfeet  were  slain  ;  the 
remnant  took  shelter  in  a  close  thicket  of  wil- 
lows, where  the  horse  could  not  enter  ;  whence 
they  plied  i.heir  bows  vigorously. 

The  Crows  drew  oflf  out  of  bow-shot,  and 
endeavored,  by  taunts  and  bravadoes,  to  draw 
the  warriors  out  of  their  retreat.  A  few  of 
the  best-mounted  among  them,  rode  apart  from 
the  rest.  One  of  their  number  then  advanced 
alone,  with  that  martial  air  and  equestrian 
g^ace  for  which  the  tribe  is  noted.  When 
within  an  arrow's  flight  of  the  thicket,  he 
loosened  his  rein,  urged  his  horse  to  full  speed, 
threw  his  body  on  the  opposite  side,  so  as  to 
hang  by  but  one  leg,  and  present  no  mark  to 
the  foe,  in  this  way,  he  swept  along  in  front 
of  the  thicket,  launching  his  arrows  from  under 
the  neck  of  his  steed.  Then  regaining  his 
seat  in  the  saddle,  he  wheeled  round,  and  re- 
turned whooping  and  scoffing  to  his  compan- 
ions, who  received  him  with  yells  of  applause. 

Another  and  another  horseman  repeated  this 
exploit ;  but  the  Blackfeet  were  not  to  be 
taunted  out  of  their  safe  shelter.  The  victors 
feared  to  drive  desperate  men  to  extremities, 
so  they  forbore  to  attempt  the  thicket.    To- 


'«.'1 


2l8 


JSotmeviUe'0  Boventured 


v*;>:.: 


fm.' 


in 


J 


in- 


wards night  they  gave  over  the  attack,  and 
returned  all-glorious  with  the  scalps  of  the 
slain.  Then  came  on  the  usual  feasts  and 
triumphs ;  the  scalp-dance  of  warriors  round 
the  ghastly  trophies,  and  all  the  other  fierce 
revelry  of  barbarous  warfare.  When  the 
braves  had  finished  with  the  scalps,  they 
were,  as  usual,  given  un  to  the  women  and 
children,  and  made  the  objects  of  new  parades 
and  dances.  They  were  then  treasured  up  as 
invaluable  trophies  and  decorations  by  the 
braves  who  had  won  them. 

It  is  worthy  of  note,  that  the  scalp  of  a  white 
man,  either  through  policy  or  fear,  is  treated 
with  more  charity  than  that  of  an  Indian. 
The  warrior  who  won  it  is  entitled  to  his  tri- 
umph if  he  demands  it.  In  such  case,  the 
war  party  alone  dance  round  the  scalp.  It  is 
then  taken  down,  and  the  shagged  frontlet  of 
a  buffalo  substituted  in  its  place,  and  aban- 
doned to  the  triumphs  and  insults  of  the 
million. 

To  avoid  being  involved  in  these  guerillas, 
as  well  as  to  escape  from  the  extremely  social 
intercourse  of  the  Crows,  which  began  to  be 
oppressive,  Montero  moved  to  the  distance  of 
several  miles  from  their  camps,  and  there 
formed  a  winter  cantonment  of  huts.  He  now 
maintained  a  vigilant  watch  at  night.    Their 


Sagaciti?  of  tbe  1)orde 


210 


:ack,  and 
►s  of  the 
lasts  and 
►rs  round 
ber  fierce 
/"hen    the 
Ips,    they 
jmen  and 
w  parades 
ired  up  as 
IS  by   the 

of  a  white 
is  treated 

tn   Indian. 

I  to  his  tri- 
case,  the 

alp.     It  is 

frontlet  of 
and  aban- 

Its  of  the 

t  guerillas, 
nely  social 
igan  to  be 
listance  of 
and  there 
He  now 
;ht.    Their 


horses,  which  were  turned  loose  to  graze  dur- 
ing the  day,  under  heedful  eyes,  were  broughi 
in  at  night,  and  shut  up  in  strong  pens,  built 
of  large  logs  of  cotton- wood. 

The  snows,  during  a  portion  of  the  winter, 
were  so  deep  that  the  poor  animals  could  find 
but  little  sustenance.  Here  and  there  a  tuft  of 
grass  would  peer  above  the  snow  ;  but  they  were 
in  general  driven  to  browse  the  twigs  and  tender 
branches  of  the  trees.  When  they  were  turned 
out  in  the  morning,  the  first  moments  of  free- 
dom from  the  confinement  of  the  pen  were 
spent  in  frisking  and  gamboling.  This  done, 
they  went  soberly  and  sadly  to  work,  to  glean 
their  scanty  subsistence  for  the  day.  In  the 
meantime,  the  men  stripped  the  bark  of  the 
cotton-wood  tree  for  the  evening  fodder.  As 
the  poor  horses  would  return  towards  night, 
with  sluggish  and  dispirited  air,  the  moment 
they  saw  their  owners  approach  them  with 
blankpts  filled  with  cotton-wood  bark,  their 
whole  demeanor  underwent  a  change.  A 
universal  neighing  and  capering  took  place ; 
they  would  rush  forward,  smell  to  the  blankets, 
paw  the  earth,  snort,  whinny  and  prance  round 
with  head  and  tail  erect,  until  the  blankets 
were  opened,  and  the  welcome  provender 
spread  before  them.  These  evidences  of  intelli- 
gence and  gladness  were  frequently  recounted 


r*-;  T 


220 


XonncvUc*B  BDvcnturcd 


by  the  trappers  as  proving  the  sagacity  of  the 
animal. 

These  veteran  rovers  of  the  mountains  look 
upon  their  horses  as  in  some  respects  gifted 
with  almost  human  intellect.  An  old  and 
experienced  trapper,  when  mounting  guard 
about  the  camp  in  dark  nights  and  times  of 
peril,  gives  heedful  attention  to  all  the  sounds 
and  signs  of  the  horses.  No  enemy  enters  nor 
approaches  the  camp  without  attracting  their 
notice,  and  their  movements  not  only  give  a 
vague  alarm,  but,  it  is  said,  will  even  indicate 
to  the  knowing  trapper  the  very  quarter  whence 
danger  threatens. 

In  the  day-time,  too,  while  a  hunter  is  en- 
gaged on  the  prairie,  cutting  up  the  deer  or 
buffalo  he  has  slain,  he  depends  upon  his 
faithful  horse  as  a  sentinel.  The  sagacious 
animal  sees  and  smells  all  round  him,  and  by 
his  starting  and  whinnying,  gives  notice  of  the 
approach  of  strangers.  There  seems  tq  be  a 
dumb  communion  and  fellowship,  a  sort  of  fra- 
ternal sympathy,  between  the  hunter  and  his 
horse.  They  mutually  rely  upon  each  other 
for  company  and  protection ;  and  nothing  is 
more  difficult,  it  is  said,  than  to  surprise  an 
experienced  hunter  on  the  prairie,  while  his 
old  and  favorite  steed  is  at  his  side. 

Montero  had   not  long  removed  his  camp 


JSIaclifeet  Xurlterd 


321 


from  the  vicinity  of  the  Crows,  and  fixed  him- 
self in  his  new  quarters,  when  the  Blackfeet 
marauders  discovered  his  cantonment,  and  be- 
gan to  haunt  the  vicinity.  He  kept  up  a 
vigilant  watch,  however,  and  foiled  every 
attempt  of  the  enemy,  who,  at  length,  seemed 
to  have  given  up  in  despair,  and  abandoned 
the  neighborhood.  The  trappers  relaxed  their 
vigilance,  therefore,  and  one  night,  after  a 
day  of  severe  labor,  no  guards  were  posted, 
and  the  whole  camp  was  soon  asleep.  Towards 
midnight,  however,  the  lightest  sleepers  were 
aroused  by  the  trampling  of  hoofs  ;  and,  giving 
the  alarm,  the  whole  party  were  immediately 
on  their  legs,  and  hastened  to  the  pens.  The 
bars  were  down  ;  but  no  enemy  was  to  be  seen 
or  heard,  and  the  horses  being  all  found  hard 
by,  it  was  supposed  the  bars  had  been  left 
down  through  negligence.  All  were  once  more 
asleep,  when,  in  about  an  hour,  there  was  a 
second  alarm,  and  it  was  discovered  that  sev- 
eral horses  were  missing.  The  rest  were 
mounted,  and  so  spirited  a  pursuit  took  place, 
that  eighteen  of  the  number  carried  off  were 
regained,  and  but  three  remained  in  the  pos- 
session  of  the  enemy.  Traps,  for  wolves,  had 
been  set  about  the  camp  the  preceding  day. 
In  the  morning,  it  was  discovered  that  a  Black- 
foot  was  entrapped  by  one  of  them,  but  had 


I  I 

'1-  i 


1     i 


^. 


'i'   ■ 


222 


¥ 

;         t 

It  !■ 

' 

;!.■  ! 

;    J  1 

'.r    1 

i  \ 

J3onnevfIIe'0  B^vcnturc0 


succeeded  in  dragging  it  off.  His  trail  was 
followed  for  a  long  distance,  which  he  must 
have  limped  alone.  At  length,  he  appeared 
to  have  fallen  in  with  some  of  his  comrades, 
who  had  relieved  him  from  his  painful  encum- 
brance. 

These  were  the  leading  incidents  of  Mon- 
tero's  campaign  in  the  Crow  country.  The 
united  parties  now  celebrated  the  4th  of  July, 
in  rough  hunters'  style,  with  hearty  convivial- 
ity ;  after  which  Captain  Bonneville  made  his 
final  arrangements.  Leaving  Montero  with  a 
brigade  of  trappers  to  open  another  campaign, 
he  put  himself  at  the  head  of  the  residue  of 
his  men,  and  set  off  on  his  return  to  civilized 
life.  We  shall  not  detail  his  journey  along  the 
course  of  the  Nebraska,  and  so  from  point  to 
point  of  the  wilderness,  until  he  and  his  band 
reached  the  frontier  settlements  on  the  22d  of 
August. 

Here,  according  to  his  own  account,  his 
cavalcade  might  have  been  taken  for  a  proces- 
sion of  tatterdemalion  savages  ;  for  the  men 
were  ragged  almost  to  nakedness,  and  had 
contracted  a  wildness  of  aspect  during  three 
years  of  wondering  in  the  wilderness.  A  few 
hours  in  a  populous  town,  however,  produced 
a  magical  metamorphosis.  Hats  of  the  most 
ample  brim  and  longest  nap  ;  coats  with  but- 


Veturn  to  tbe  Settlement 


at3 


ail  was 
e  must 
ppeared 
mrades, 
encum- 

of  Mon- 
y.     The 
of  July, 
jnvivial- 
nade  his 
o  with  a 
impaign, 
sidue  of 
civilized 
ilongthe 
point  to 
his  band 
e  22d  of 

unt,  his 
a  proces- 
the  men 
and  had 
ng  three 
A  few 
jroduced 
the  most 
srith  but- 


tons that  shone  like  mirrors,  and  pantaloons 
of  the  most  ample  plenitude,  took  place  of  the 
well-worn  trapper's  equipments  ;  and  the  happy 
wearers  might  be  seen  strolling  about  in  all 
directions,  scattering  their  silver  like  sailors 
just  from  a  cruise. 

The  worthy  captain,  however,  seems  by  no 
means  to  have  shared  the  excitement  of  his 
men,  on  finding  himself  once  more  in  the 
thronged  resorts  of  civilized  life,  but,  on  the 
contrary,  to  have  looked  back  to  the  wilderness 
with  regret.  * '  Though  the  prospect, ' '  says 
he,  "  of  once  more  tasting  the  blessings  of 
peaceful  society,  and  passing  days  and  nights 
under  the  calm  guardianship  of  the  laws,  was 
not  without  its  attractions  ;  yet  to  those  of 
us  whose  whole  lives  had  been  spent  in  the 
stirring  eiicitement  and  perpetual  watchfulness 
of  adventures  in  the  wilderness,  the  change 
was  far  from,  promising  an  increase  of  that 
contentment  and  inward  satisfaction  most  con- 
ducive to  happiness.  He  who,  like  myself, 
has  roved  almost  from  boyhood  among  the 
children  of  the  forest,  and  over  the  unfurrowed 
plains  and  rugged  heights  of  the  western 
wastes,  will  not  be  startled  to  learn  that,  not- 
withstanding all  the  fascinations  of  the  world 
on  this  civilized  side  of  the  mountains,  I  would 
fain  make  my  bow  to  the  splendors  and  gayeties 


224 


JSonneviUe'0  BDt^cnturea 


■ '  J  M'l.; 


11 


of  the  metropolis,  and  plunge  again  amidst  the 
hardships  and  perils  of  the  wilderness." 

We  have  only  to  add,  that  the  affairs  of  the 
captain  have  been  satisfactorily  arranged  with 
the  War  Department,  and  that  he  is  actually 
in  service  at  Fort  Gibson,  on  our  western 
frontier ;  where  we  hope  he  may  meet  with 
further  opportunities  of  indulging  his  peculiar 
tastes,  and  of  collecting  graphic  and  character- 
istic details  of  the  great  western  wilds  and 
their  motley  inhabitants. 


We  here  close  our  picturlngs  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains  and  their  wild  inhabitants,  and  of 
the  wild  life  that  prevails  there ;  which  we 
have  been  anxious  to  fix  on  recon'i,  because 
we  are  aware  that  this  singular  state  of  things 
is  full  of  mutation,  and  must  soon  undergo 
great  changes,  if  not  entirely  pass  away.  The 
fur  trade,  itself,  which  has  given  life  to  all 
this  portraiture,  is  essentially  evanescent.  Rival 
parties  of  trappers  soon  exhaust  the  streams, 
especially  when  competition  renders  them  heed- 
less and  wasteful  of  the  beaver.  The  fur- 
bearing  animals  extinct,  a  complete  change 
will  come  over  the  scene  ;  the  gay  free  trapper 
and  his  steed,  decked  out  in  wild  array,  and 


CcttciuNtid  Itemarlid 


23$ 


lidst  the 


11 


rs  of  the 
[ed  with 
actually 

western 
iet  with 

peculiar 
baracter- 
ilds  and 


le  Rocky 
3,  and  of 
rhich  we 
,  because 
of  things 

undergo 
ay.  The 
ife  to  all 
Qt.  Rival 

streams, 
lem  heed- 
The  fur- 
change 
:e  trapper 
rray,  and 


tinkling  with  bells  and  trinketry  ;  the  savage 
war  chief,  plumed  and  painted,  and  ever  on 
the  prowl ;  the  trader's  ca\alcade,  winding 
through  defiles  or  over  naked  plains,  with  the 
stealthy  war  party  lurking  on  its  trail ;  the 
buffalo  chase,  the  hunting  camp,  the  mad 
carouse  in  the  midst  of  danger,  the  night  attack, 
the  stampado,  the  scamper,  the  fierce  skirmish 
among  rocks  and  cliffs, — all  this  romance  of 
savage  life,  which  yet  exists  among  the  moun- 
tains, will  then  exist  but  in  frontier  story,  and 
seem  like  the.  fiction  of  chivalry  or  fairy  tale. 

Some  new  system  of  things,  or  rather  some 
new  modification,  will  succeed  among  the 
roving  people  of  this  vast  wilderness ;  but  just 
as  opposite,  perhaps,  to  the  habitudes  of  civil- 
ization. The  great  Chippewyan  chain  of 
mountains,  and  the  candy  and  volcanic  plains 
which  extend  on  either  side,  are  represented 
as  incapable  of  cultivation.  The  pasturage, 
which  prevails  there  during  a  certain  portion 
of  the  year,  soon  withers  under  the  aridity  of 
the  atmosphere,  and  leaves  nothing  but  dreary 
wastes.  An  immense  belt  of  rocky  mountains 
and  volcanic  plains,  several  hundred  miles  in 
width,  must  ever  remain  an  irreclaimable 
wilderness,  intervening  between  the  abodes  cf 
civilization,  and  affording  a  last  refuge  to  the 
Indian.     Here  roving  tribes  of  hunters,  living 

VOL.  II. — 15 


1  ) 


:l 


r  ;i  i 


'  t' 


,f.  ■    . '  1 


I  if  I 


916 


J9onneville'0  B^venture0 


in  terits  or  lodges,  and  following  the  migrations 
of  the  game,  may  lead  a  life  of  savage  indepen- 
dence, where  there  is  nothing  to  tempt  the 
cupidity  of  the  white  man.  The  amalgamation 
of  various  tribes,  and  of  white  men  of  every  na- 
tion, will  in  time  produce  hybrid  races  like  the 
mountain  Tartars  of  the  Caucasus.  Possessed  as 
they  are  of  immense  droves  of  horses,  should 
they  continue  their  present  predatory  and  war- 
like  habits,  they  may,  in  time,  become  a  scourge 
to  the  civilized  frontiers  on  either  side  of  the 
mountains ;  as  they  are  at  present  a  terror  to 
the  traveller  and  trader. 

The  facts  disclosed  in  the  present  work, 
clearly  manifest  the  policy  of  establishing 
military  posts  and  a  mounted  force  to  protect 
our  traders  in  their  jotu-neys  across  the  great 
western  wilds,  and  of  pushing  the  outposts 
into  the  very  heart  of  the  singular  wilderness 
we  have  laid  open,  so  as  to  maintain  some 
degree  of  sway  over  the  country,  and  to  put 
an  end  to  the  kind  of  **  black  mail,**  levied  on 
all  occasions  by  the  savage  **  chivalry  of  the 
mountains.*' 


stations 
ndepen- 
npt  the 
imation 
irery  na- 
like  the 
essed  as 
should 
nd  war- 
scourge 
5  of  the 
error  to 

;  work, 
>lishing 

protect 
le  great 
mtposts 
demess 
n  some 

to  put 
vied  on 
r  of  the 


Hppen&iy 
XEbe  a^\>enturc5  of 

Captain  BonnevHIec 


't      ! 


In. 


Bppen^fa:• 

Nathaniel  J,  Wyeth,  and  the  Trade  of  the  Far  West, 


Wb  have  brought  Captain  Bonneville  to  the  end  of 
his  western  campaigning ;  yet  we  cannot  close  this 
work  without  subjoining  some  particulars  concerning 
the  fortunes  of  his  contemporary,  Mr.  Wyeth  ;  anec- 
dotes of  whose  enterprise  have,  occasionally,  been  in- 
terwoven in  the  party-colored  web  of  our  narrative. 
Wyeth  effected  his  intention  of  establishing  a  trading 
post  on  the  Portneuf,  which  he  named  Fort  Hall. 
Here,  for  the  first  time,  the  American  flag  was  unfurled 
to  the  breeze  that  sweeps  the  great  naked  wastes  of 
the  central  wilderness.  Leaving  twelve  men  here, 
with  a  stock  of  goods,  to  trade  with  the  neighboring 
tribes,  he  prosecuted  his  journey  to  the  Columbia ; 
where  he  established  another  post,  called  Fort  Wil- 
liams, on  Wappatoo  Island,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Walla- 
mut.  This  was  to  be  the  head  factory  of  his  company ; 
whence  they  were  to  carry  on  their  fishing  and  trap- 
ping operations,  and  their  trade  with  the  interior  ;  and 

229 


S30 


XonncvUlc*6  B^ventured 


.  :i»^ 


where  they  were  to  receive  and  dispatch  their  annual 
ship. 

The  plan  of  Mr.  Wyeth  appears  to  have  been  well 
concerted.  He  had  observed  that  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tain Fur  Company,  the  bands  of  free  trappers,  as  well 
as  the  Indians  west  of  the  mountains,  depended  for 
their  supplies  upon  goods  brought  from  St.  Louis  ; 
which,  in  consequence  of  the  expenses  and  risks  of  a 
long  land  carriage,  were  fui;ni:ihed  them  at  an  im- 
mense advance  on  first  cost.  He  had  an  idea  that  they 
might  be  much  more  cheaply  supplied  from  the  Pacific 
side.  Horses  would  cost  much  less  on  the  borders  of 
the  Columbia  than  at  St.  Louis  :  the  transportation  by 
land  was  much  shorter,  and  through  a  country  much 
more  safe  from  the  hostility  of  savage  tribes,  which, 
on  the  route  from  and  to  St.  Louis,  annually  cost  the 
lives  of  many  men.  On  this  idea  he  grounded  his 
plan.  He  combined  the  salmon  fishery  with  the  fur 
trade.  A  fortified  trading  post  was  to  be  established 
on  the  Columbia,  to  carry  on  a  trade  with  the  natives 
for  salmon  and  peltries,  and  to  fish  and  trap  on  their 
own  account.  Once  a  year,  a  ship  was  to  come  from 
the  United  States,  to  bring  out  goods  for  the  interior 
trade,  and  to  take  home  the  salmon  and  furs  which  have 
been  collected.  Part  of  the  goo^s,  thus  brought  out, 
were  to  be  dispatched  to  the  mountains,  to  supply  the 
trapping  companies  and  the  Indian  tribes,  in  exchange 
for  their  furs  ;  which  w«.  ■    to  be  brought  down  to  +he 


W^U 


fippcndfi 


231 


Columbia,  to  be  sent  home  in  the  next  annual  ship : 
and  thus  an  annual  round  was  to  be  kept  up.  The 
profits  on  the  salmon,  it  was  expected,  would  coverall 
the  expenses  of  the  ship  ;  so  that  the  goods  brought 
out,  and  the  furs  carried  home,  would  cost  nothing  as 
to  freight. 

His  enterprise  was  prosecuted  with  a  spirit,  intelli- 
gence, and  perseverance,  that  merited  success.  All 
the  details  that  we  have  met  with,  prove  him  to  be  no 
ordinary  man.  He  appears  to  have  the  mind  to  con- 
ceive, and  the  energy  to  execute  extensive  and  strik- 
ing plans.  He  had  once  more  reared  the  American 
flag  in  the  lost  domains  of  Astoria  ;  and  had  he  been 
enabled  to  maintain  the  footing  he  had  so  gallantly 
eflfected,  he  might  have  regained  for  his  country  the 
opulent  trade  of  the  Columbia,  of  ^hich  our  states- 
men have  negligently  suffered  us  to  be  dispossessed. 

It  is  needless  to  go  into  a  detail  of  the  variety  of 
accidents  and  cross-purposes,  which  caused  the  failure 
of  his  scheme.  They  were  such  as  all  undertakings 
of  the  kind,  involving  combined  operations  by  sea  and 
land,  are  liable  to.  What  he  most  wanted,  was  suffi- 
cient capital  to  enable  him  to  endure  incipient  obsta- 
cles and  losses ;  and  to  hold  on  until  success  had 
time  to  spring  up  from  the  midst  of  disastrous  experi- 
ments. 

It  is  with  extreme  regret  we  learn  that  he  has  re- 
cently been  compelled  to  dispose  of  his  establishment 


m 


232 


3BonncviIle'0  Bdt'enturea 


Mr     i 


at  Wappatoo  Island,  to  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company ; 
who,  it  is  but  justice  to  say,  have,  according  to  his 
own  account,  treated  him  throughout  the  whole  of  his 
enterprise,  with  great  fairness,  friendship,  and  liberal- 
ity. That  company,  therefore,  still  maintains  an  un- 
rivaled sway  over  the  whole  country  washed  by  the 
Columbia  and  its  tributaries.  It  has,  in  fact,  as  far  as 
its  chartered  powers  permit,  followed  out  the  splendid 
scheme  contemplated  by  Mr.  Aster,  when  he  founded 
his  establishment  at  the  mouth  of  the  Columbia. 
From  their  emporium  of  Vancouver,  companies  are 
sent  forth  in  every  direction,  to  supply  the  interior 
posts,  to  trade  with  the  natives,  and  to  trade  upon  the 
various  streams.  These  thread  the  rivers,  traverse  the 
plains,  penetrate  to  the  heart  of  the  mountains,  ex- 
tend their  enterprise  northward,  to  the  Russian  pos- 
sessions, and  southward,  to  the  confines  of  California. 
Their  yearly  supplies  are  received,  by  sea,  at  Vancou- 
ver ;  and  thence  their  furs  and  peltries  are  shipped  to 
London.  They  likewise  maintain  a  considerable  com- 
merce, in  wheat  and  lumber,  with  the  Pacific  Islands, 
and  to  the  north,  with  the  Russian  settlements. 

Though  the  company,  by  treaty,  have  a  right  to  a 
participation  only,  in  the  trade  of  these  regions,  and 
are,  in  fact,  but  tenants  on  sufferance  ;  yet  have  they 
quietly  availed  themselves  of  the  original  oversight, 
and  subsequent  supineness  of  the  American  govern- 
ment, to  establish  a  monopoly  of  the  trade  of  the  river 


Bppendii 


233 


ompany ; 
ig  to  his 
ole  of  his 
id  liberal- 
QS  an  un- 
;d  by  the 
,  as  far  as 
i  splendid 
i  founded 
[Columbia, 
sanies  are 
e  interior 
;  upon  the 
•averse  the 
Litains,  ex- 
issian  pos- 
tal ifornia. 
it  Vancou- 
shipped  to 
rable  com- 
ic Islands, 
:nts. 

right  to  a 
;gions,  and 
have  they 
oversight, 
an  govem- 
)f  the  river 


and  its  dependencies  :  and  are  adroitly  proceeding  to 
fortify  themselves  in  their  usurpation,  by  securing  all 
the  strong  points  of  the  country. 

Fort  George,  originally  Astoria,  which  was  aban- 
doned on  the  removal  of  the  main  factory  to  Van- 
couver, was  renewed  in  1830  ;  and  is  now  kept  up  as  a 
fortified  post  and  trading  house.  All  the  places  ac- 
cessible to  shipping  have  been  taken  possession  of, 
and  posts  recently  established  at  them  by  the  com* 
pany. 

The  greater  capital  of  this  association ;  their  long 
established  system ;  their  hereditary  influence  over 
the  Indian  tribes  ;  their  internal  organization,  which 
makes  everything  go  on  with  the  regularity  of  a  ma- 
chine ;  and  the  low  wages  of  their  people,  who  are 
mostly  Canadians,  give  them  great  advantages  over 
the  American  traders  :  nor  is  it  likely  the  latter  will 
ever  be  able  to  maintain  any  footing  in  the  land,  un- 
til the  question  of  territorial  right  is  adjusted  between 
th*e  two  countries.  The  sooner  that  takes  place,  the 
better.  It  is  a  question  too  serious  to  national  pride, 
if  not  to  national  interest,  to  be  slurred  over ;  and 
every  year  is  adding  to  the  difficulties  which  en- 
viron it. 

The  fur  trade,  which  is  now  the  main  object  of  en- 
terprise west  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  forms  but  a 
part  of  the  real  resources  of  the  country.  Beside  the 
salmon  fishery  of  the  Columbia,  which  is  capable  of 


i 


!!    ■ 


$ :  r 


(11    I' 


i,i 


''!.; 


ml: 


:->;. 
».'?- 


''ft 


234 


J3onneviUc'0  Bdventurea 


being  rendered  a  considerable  source  of  profit ;  the 
great  valleys  of  the  lower  country,  below  the  elevated 
volcanic  plateau,  arc  calculated  to  give  sustenance  to 
countless  flocks  and  herds,  and  to  sustain  a  great 
population  of  graziers  and  agriculturists. 

Such,  for  instance,  is  the  beautiful  valley  of  the 
Wallamut ;  from  which  the  establishment  at  Van- 
couver draws  most  of  its  supplies.  Here,  the  company 
holds  mills  and  farms ;  and  has  provided  for  some  of 
its  superannuated  officers  and  servants.  This  valley, 
above  the  falls,  is  about  fifty  miles  wide,  and  extends 
a  great  distance  to  the  south.  The  climate  is  mild, 
being  sheltered  by  lateral  ranges  of  mountains  ;  while 
the  soil,  for  richness,  has  been  equalled  to  the  best  of 
the  Missouri  lands.  The  valley  of  the  river  Des 
Chutes,  is  also  admirably  calculated  for  a  great  graz- 
ing country.  All  the  best  horses  used  by  the  com- 
pany for  the  mountains,  are  raised  there.  The  valley 
is  of  such  happy  temperature,  that  grass  grows  there 
throughout  the  year,  and  cattle  may  be  left  out  to 
pasture  during  the  winter.  These  valleys  must  form 
the  grand  points  of  commencement  of  the  future 
settlement  of  the  country ;  but  there  must  be  many 
such,  enfolded  in  the  embraces  of  these  lower  ranges 
of  mountains,  which,  though  at  present  they  lie  waste 
and  uninhabited,  and,  to  the  eye  of  the  trader  and 
trapper,  present  but  barren  wastes,  would,  in  the 
hands  of  skillful  agriculturists  and  husbandmen,  soon 


Bppendfs 


235 


rofit;  the 
» elevated 
enance  to 
ti  a  great 

ey  of  the 
t  at  Van- 
» company 
)r  some  of 
his  valley, 
ad  extends 
te  is  mild, 
lins ;  while 
the  best  of 
river  Des 
great  graz- 
the  com- 
The  valley 
rows  there 
lleft  out  to 
must  form 
the  future 
it  be  many 
iwer  ranges 
ly  lie  waste 
trader  and 
lid,  in  the 
men,  soon 


assume  a  different  aspect,   and    teem   with   waving 
crops,  or  be  covered  with  flocks  and  herds. 

The  resources  of  the  country,  too,  while  in  the 
hands  of  a  company  restricted  in  its  trade,  can  be  but 
partially  called  forth  ;  but  in  the  hands  of  Americans, 
enjoying  a  direct  trade  with  the  East  Indies,  would 
be  brought  into  quickening  activity,  and  might  soon 
realize  the  dream  of  Mr.  Astor,  in  giving  rise  to  a 
flourishing  commercial  empire. 


Wreck  of  a  Japanese  Junk  on  the  Northwest  Coast, 

The  following  extract  of  a  letter  which  we  received, 
lately,  from  Mr.  Wyeth,  may  be  interesting,  as  throw- 
ing some  light  upon  the  question  as  to  the  manner  in 
which  America  has  been  peopled  : 

••Are  you  aware  of  thp  fact,  that  in  the  winter  of 
1833,  a  Japanese  junk  was  wrecked  on  the  northwest 
coast,  in  the  neighborhood  of  Queen  Charlotte's  Isl- 
and ;  and  that  all  but  two  of  the  crew,  then  much 
reduced  by  starvation  and  disease,  during  a  long  drift 
across  the  Pacific,  were  killed  by  the  natives  ?  The 
two  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company 
and  were  sent  to  England.  I  saw  them,  on  my  arrival 
at  Vancouver,  in  1834." 


236 


JSonncviUe'0  BDventuree 


i' 


wm 


Ifisirudiofis  to  Captain  Bonneville  from  the  Major- 

General  Commanding  the  Army  of  the  United 

States. 

Head-quarters  of  the  Army,  •» 
Washington,  August  3,  1831.  j 

Sir, — The  leave  of  absence  which  you  have  asked, 
for  the  purpose  of  enabling  you  to  carry  into  execu- 
tion your  design  of  exploring  the  country  to  the 
Rocky  Mountains  and  beyond,  with  a  view  of  ascer- 
taining the  nature  and  character  of  the  several  tribes 
of  Indians  inhabiting  those  regions  ;  the  trade  which 
might  be  profitably  carried  on  with  them  ;  the  quality 
o  the  soil,  the  productions,  the  minerals,  the  natural 
history,  the  climate,  the  geography  and  topography, 
as  well  as  geology,  of  the  various  parts  of  the  country 
within  the  limits  of  the  territories  belonging  to  the 
United  States,  between  our  frontier  and  the  Pacific, — 
has  been  duly  considered  and  submitted  to  the  War 
Department  for  approval,  and  has  been  sanctioned. 
You  are,  therefore,  authorize^  to  be  absent  from  the 
army  until  October,  1833.  It  is  understood  that  the 
government  is  to  be  at  no  expense  in  reference  to 
your  proposed  expedition,  it  having  originated  with 
yourself;  and  all  that  you  required  was  the  permis- 
sion from  the  proper  authority  to  undertake  the  enter- 
prise. You  will,  naturally,  in  preparing  yourself  for 
the  expedition,  provide  suitable  instruments,  and 
especially  the  best  maps  of  the  interior  to  be  found. 


Sppcndts 


237 


It  is  desirable,  besides  what  is  enumerated  as  the 
object  of  your  enterprise,  that  you  ^ote  particularly 
the  number  of  warriors  that  may  be  in  eacn  tribe  or 
nation  that  you  may  meet  with  ;  their  alliances  with 
other  tribes,  and  their  relative  position  as  to  a  state  of 
peace  or  war,  and  whether  their  friendly  or  warlike 
dispositions  towards  each  other  are  recent  or  of  long 
standing.  You  will  gratify  us  by  describing  their 
manner  of  making  war;  of  the  mode  of  subsisting 
themselves  during  a  state  of  war,  and  a  state  of  peace ; 
their  arms,  and  the  effect  of  them  ;  whether  they  act 
on  foot  or  on  horseback  ;  detailing  the  discipline  and 
manceuvers  of  the  war  parties ;  the  power  of  their 
horses,  size,  and  general  description ;  in  short,  every 
information  which  you  may  conceive  would  be  useful 
to  the  government. 

You  will  avail  yourself  of  every  opportunity  of  in- 
forming us  of  your  position  and  progress,  and  at  the 
expiration  of  your  leave  of  absence,  will  join  your 
proper  station. 

I  have  the  honor  to  be.  Sir, 
Your  obt.  servant, 

Ai^EXANDER  Macomb, 
Major-General^  Commanding  the  Army, 

Capt.  B.  L.  E.  B0NNEVILI.E, 

7/A  RegL  of  Infantry ^  New  York, 


rtMecellanlcs 


•39 


1 

■  l> 

i 
i 

, 

1 

ikl 

WOLFERT'S  ROOST. 


Cbronicle  1* 


ABOUT  five-and-twent-  miles  from  the 
ancient  and  renowned  city  of  Manhat- 
tan, formerly  called  New  Amsterdam, 
and  vulgarly  called  New  York,  on  the  eastern 
bank  of  that  expansion  of  the  Hudson  known 
among  Dutch  mariners  of  yore  as  the  Tappan 
Zee,  being  in  fact  the  great  Mediterranean  Sea 
of  the  New  Netherlands,  stands  a  little,  old- 
fashioned  stone  mansion,  all  made  up  of  gable 
ends,  and  as  full  of  angles  and  corners  as  an 
old  cocked  hat.  It  is  said,  in  fact,  to  have 
been  modelled  after  the  cocked  hat  of  Peter  the 
Headstrong,  as  the  Kscurial  was  modelled  after 
the  gridiron  of  the  blessed  St.  Lawrence. 
Though  but  of  small  dimensions,  yet,  like 
many  small  people,  it  is  of  mighty  spirit,  and 

VOL.  U.— 16 

241 


343 


Knoirert'0  "Roost 


i 


;,"! 


i!:; 


t:; 


I''.-  'i: 


«; 


values  itself  greatly  on  its  antiquity,  being  one 
of  the  oldest  edifices,  for  its  size,  in  the  whole 
country.  It  claims  to  be  an  ancient  seat  of 
empire, — I  may  rather  say  an  empire  in  itself, 
— and,  like  all  empires,  great  and  small,  has 
had  its  grand  historical  epochs.  In  speaking 
of  this  doughty  and  valorous  little  pile,  I 
shall  call  it  by  its  usual  appellation  of  "  The 
Roost  "  ;  though  that  is  a  name  given  to  it  in 
modern  days,  since  it  became  the  abode  of  the 
white  man. 

Its  origin,  in  truth,  dates  far  back  in  that 
remote  region  commonly  called  the  fabulous 
age,  in  which  vulgar  fact  becomes  mystified 
and  tinted  up  with  delectable  fiction.  The 
eastern  shore  of  the  Tappan  Sea  was  inhabited 
in  those  days  by  an  unsophisticated  race,  ex- 
isting in  all  the  simplicty  of  nature  ;  that  is  to 
say,  they  lived  by  hunting  and  fishing,  recre- 
ated themselves  occasionally  with  a  little  toma- 
hawking and  scalping.  Each  stream  that 
flow^s  down  from  the  hills  into  the  Hudson  had 
its  petty  sachem,  who  r  iled  over  a  hand's- 
breadth  of  forest  on  either  side,  and  had  his 
seat  of  government  at  its  mouth.  The  chief- 
tain who  ruled  the  Roost  was  not  merely  a 
great  warrior,  but  a  medicine-man,  or  prophet, 
or  conjurer,  for  they  all  mean  the  same  thing 
in  Indian  parlance.     Of  his  fighting  propen- 


I 


II  k       I 


TKnoKcrt'd  tlooBt 


243 


sities  evidences  still  remain,  in  various  arrow- 
lieads  of  flint,  and  stone  battle-axes,  occasion- 
ally digged  up  about  the  Roost ;  of  his  wizard 
powers  we  have  a  token  in  a  spring  which  wells 
up  at  the  foot  of  the  bank,  on  the  very  margin 
of  the  river,  which,  it  is  said,  was  gifted  by 
him  with  rejuvenating  powers,  something  like 
the  renowned  Fountain  of  Youth  in  the  Flori- 
das,  so  anxiously  but  vainly  sought  after  by 
the  veteran  Ponce  de  Leon.  This  story,  how- 
ever, is  stoutly  contradicted  by  an  old  Dutch 
matter-of-fact  tradition,  which  declares  that  the 
spring  in  question  was  smuggled  over  from 
Holland  in  a  churn,  by  Femmetie  Van  Blarcom, 
wife  of  Goosen  Garret  Van  Blarcom,  one  of 
the  first  settlers,  and  that  she  took  it  up  by 
night,  unknown  to  her  husband,  from  beside 
their  farm-house  near  Rotterdam  ,  being  sure 
she  should  find  no  water  ^qual  to  it  in  the  new 
country  ; — and  she  was  ngh.. 

The  wizard  sachem  had  a  g^eat  passion  for 
discussing  territorial  questions,  and  settling 
boundary  lines ;  in  other  words,  he  had  the 
spirit  of  annexation.  This  kept  him  in  con- 
tinual feud  with  the  neighboring  sachems, 
each  of  whom  stood  up  stoutly  for  his  hand- 
breadth  of  territory ;  so  that  there  is  not  a 
petty  stream  nor  rugged  hill  in  the  neighbor- 
hood that  has  not  been  the  subject  of  long  talks 


is: 
■  •  ) 


w 


'/tt- 


'  i'  -m. 


w 


■J 

i 


<H     !•    ■  I 


if'' 


Mb 


li 


244 


lIQIolfert'0  Voo^t 


and  hard  battles.  The  sachem,  however,  as 
has  been  observed,  was  a  medicine-man  as  well 
as  warrior,  and  vindicated  his  claims  by  arts 
as  well  as  arms  ;  so  that,  by  dint  of  a  little 
hard  fighting  here,  and  hocuspocus  (or  diplo- 
macy) there,  he  managed  to  extend  his  bound- 
ary line  from  field  to  field,  and  stream  to 
stream,  until  it  brought  him  into  collision  with 
the  powerful  sachem  of  Sing-Sing.*  Many 
were  the  sharp  conflicts  between  these  rival 
chieftains  for  the  sovereignty  of  a  winding 
valley,  a  favorite  hunting-ground  watered  by 
d  beautiful  stream  called  the  Pocantico.  Many 
were  the  ambuscades,  surprisals,  and  deadly 
onslaughts  that  took  place  among  its  fast- 
nesses, of  which  it  grieves  me  much  that  I 
cannot  pursue  the  details,  for  the  gratification 
of  those  gentle  but  bloody-minded  readers,  of 
both  sexes,  who  delight  in  the  romance  of  the 
tomahawk  and  scalping-knife.  Suffice  it  to 
say,  that  the  wizard  chieftain  was  at  length 
victorious,  though  the  victory  is  attributed,  i^: 
Indian  tradition,  to  a  great  medicine,  or  charm, 

*  A  corruption  of  the  old  Indian  name,  O-sin-sing. 
Some  have  rendered  it,  O-sin-song,  or,  O-sing-song, 
in  token  of  its  being  a  great  market  town,  where  any- 
thing might  be  had  for  a  mere  song.  Its  present  melo- 
dious alteration  to  Sing- Sing  is  said  to  have  been  made 
in  compliment  to  a  Yankee  singing-master,  who  taught 
the  inhabitants  the  art  of  singing  through  their  nose. 


tKnoKcrt'd  "Roodt 


245 


by  which  he  laid  the  sachem  of  Sing-Sing  and 
his  warriors  asleep  among  the  rocks  and  re- 
cesses of  the  valley,  where  they  remain  asleep  to 
the  present  day,  with  their  bows  and  war-clubs 
beside  them,  This  was  the  origin  of  that  po- 
tent and  drowsy  spell,  which  still  prevails  over 
the  valley  of  the  Pocantico,  and  which  has 
gained  it  the  well-merited  appellation  of  Sleepy 
Hollow.  Often,  in  secluded  and  quiet  parts 
of  that  valley,  where  the  stream  is  overhung 
by  dark  woods  and  rocks,  the  ploughman,  on 
some  calm  and  sunny  day,  as  he  shouts  to  his 
oxen,  is  surprised  to  hear  faint  shouts  from  the 
hill-sides  in  reply  ;  being,  it  is  said,  the  spell- 
bound warriors,  who  half  start  from  their  rocky 
couches  and  grasp  their  weapons,  but  sink  to 
sleep  again. 

The  conquest  of  the  Pocantico  was  the  last 
triumph  of  the  wizard  sachem.  Notwithstand- 
ing all  his  medicines  and  charms,  he  fell  in 
battle,  in  attempting  to  extend  his  boundary 
line  to  the  east,  so  as  to  take  in  the  little  wild 
valley  of  the  Sprain  ;  and  his  grave  is  still 
shown,  near  the  banks  of  the  pastoral  stream. 
He  left,  however,  a  great  empire  to  his  succes- 
sors, extending  along  the  Tappan  Sea,  from 
Yonkers  quite  to  Sleepy  Hollow,  and  known 
in  all  records  and  maps  by  the  Indian  name 
of  Wicquaes-Keck. 


iiii 


846 


TIQlolferr0  1{oo0t 


'0  *: 


'I    ;i 


if   ■    ' 

Iw    I' 


■'  i 


i 


I  ii 


n 


The  wizard  sachem  was  succeeded  by  a  line 
of  chiefs  of  whom  nothing  remarkable  remains 
on  record.  One  of  them  was  the  very  individ- 
ual on  whom  master  Hendrick  Hudson  and 
his  mate  Robert  Juet  made  that  sage  experi- 
ment gravely  recorded  by  the  latter  in  the  nar- 
rative of  the  discovery. 

"Our  master  and  his  mate  determined  to 
try  some  of  the  cheefe  men  of  the  country, 
whether  they  had  any  treacherie  in  them.  So 
they  took  them  down  into  the  cabin,  and  gave 
them  so  much  wine  and  aqua  vitae,  that  they 
were  all  quite  merrie ;  one  of  them  had  his 
wife  with  him,  which  sate  so  modestly  as  any 
of  our  country  women  would  do  in  a  strange 
place.  In  the  end,  one  of  them  was  drunke  ; 
and  that  was  strange  to  them,  for  they  could 
not  tell  how  to  take  it."  * 

How  far  master  Hendrick  Hudson  and  his 
worthy  mate  carried  their  experiment  with  the 
sachem's  wife,  is  not  recorded ;  neither  does 
the  curious  Robert  Juet  make  any  mention  of 
the  after  consequences  of  this  grand  moral 
test;  tradition,  however,  affirms  that  the  sa- 
chem, on  landing,  gave  his  modest  spouse  a 
hearty  rib-roasting,  according  to  the  connubial 
discipline  of  the  aboriginals ;  it  farther  affirms 
that  he  remained  a  hard  drinker  to  the  day  of 
*  See  Juet's  Journal^  Purchas'  Pilgrams. 


'i 


TIQlol(err0  Itoodt 


247 


his  death,  trading  away  all  his  lands,  acre  by 
acre,  for  aqua  vitse ;  by  which  means  the  Roost 
and  aHl  its  domains,  from  Yonkers  to  Sleepy 
Hollow,  came  in  the  regular  course  of  trade, 
and  by  right  of  purchase,  into  the  possession 
of  the  Dutchmen. 

The  worthy  government  of  the  New  Nether- 
lands was  not  suffered  to  enjoy  this  grand  ac- 
quisition unmolested.  In  the  year  of  1654, 
the  losel  Yankees  of  Connecticut,  those  swap- 
ping, bargaining,  squatting,  enemies  of  the 
Manhattoes,  made  a  daring  inroad  into  this 
neighborhooril  d  founded  a  colony  called 
Westchester,  .  ,  as  the  ancient  Dutch  records 
term  it.  Vest  Dorp,  in  the  right  of  one  Thomas 
Pell,  who  pretended  to  have  purchased  the 
whole  surrounding  country  of  the  Indians, 
and  stood  ready  to  argue  their  claims  before 
any  tribunal  of  Christendom. 

This  happened  during  the  chivalrous  reign 
of  Peter  Stuyvesant,  and  roused  the  ire  of 
that  gunpowder  old  hero.  Without  waiting 
to  discuss  claims  and  titles,  he  pounced  at 
once  upon  the  nest  of  nefarious  squatters, 
carried  off  twenty-five  of  them  in  chains  to 
the  Manhattoes  ;  nor  did  he  stay  his  hand,  nor 
give  rest  to  his  wooden  leg,  until  he  had  driven 
the  rest  of  the  Yankees  back  into  Connecticut, 
or  obliged  them  to  acknowledge  allegiance  to 


248 


MoUert'0  fRooet 


Ml: 

'l  ■ 

III 


ml^.^ 


I .' 


their  High  Mightinesses.  In  revenge,  how- 
ever, they  introduced  the  plague  of  witchcraft 
into  the  province.  This  doleful  malady  broke 
out  at  Vest  Do^,  and  would  have  spread 
throughout  the  country  had  not  the  Dutch 
farmers  nailed  horse-shoes  to  the  doors  of  their 
houses  and  barns,  sure  protections  against 
witchcraft,  many  of  which  remain  to  the  pres- 
ent day. 

The  seat  of  empire  of  the  wizard  sachem 
now  came  into  the  possession  of  Wolfert  Acker, 
one  of  the  privy  councillors  of  Peter  btuyve- 
sant.  He  was  a  worthy,  but  ill-starred  man, 
whose  aim  through  life  had  been  to  live  in 
peace  and  quiet.  For  this  he  had  emigrated 
from  Holland,  driven  abroad  by  family  feuds 
and  wrangling  neighbors.  He  had  warred  for 
quiet  through  the  fidgety  reign  of  William  the 
Testy,  and  the  fighting  reign  of  Peter  the 
Headstrong,  sharing  in  every  brawl  and  rib- 
roasting,  in  his  eagerness  to  keep  the  peace 
and  promote  public  tranquillity.  It  was  his 
doom,  in  fact,  to  meet  a  head- wind  at  every 
turn,  and  be  kept  in  a  constant  fume  and  fret 
by  the  perverseness  of  mankind.  Had  he 
served  on  a  modern  jury,  he  would  have  been 
sure  to  have  eleven  unreasonable  men  opposed 
to  him.  .  ^ 

At  the  time  when  the  province  of  the  New 


TRIloIterrd  l^oodt 


249 


Netherlands  was  wrested  from  the  domination 
of  their  High  Mightinesses:  by  the  combined 
forces  of  Old  and  New  England,  sVolfert  re- 
tired in  high  dudgeon  to  this  fastness  in  the 
wilderness,  with  the  bitter  determination  to 
bury  himself  from  the  world,  and  live  here  for 
the  rest  of  his  days  in  peace  and  quiet.  In 
token  of  that  fixed  purpose,  he  inscribed  over 
his  door  (his  teeth  clinched  at  the  time)  his 
favorite  Dutch  motto,  ' '  Lust  in  Rust '  *  (pleas- 
ure in  quiet.)  The  mansion  was  thence  called 
Wolfert's  Rust  (Wolfert's  Rest),  but  by  the 
uneducated,  who  did  not  understand  Dutch, 
Wolfert's  Roost ;  probably  from  its  quaint 
cockloft  look,  and  from  its  having  a  weather- 
cock perched  on  every  gable. 

Wolfert's  luck  followed  him  into  retirement. 
H».  had  shut  himself  up  from  the  world,  but 
he  had  brought  with  him  a  v/ife,  and  it  soon 
passed  into  a  proverb  throughout  the  neighbor- 
hood that  the  cock  of  the  Roost  was  the  most 
henpecked  bird  in  the  country.  His  houae  too 
was  reputed  to  be  harassed  by  Yankee  witch- 
craft. When  the  weather  was  quiet  every- 
where else,  the  wind,  it  was  said,  would  howl 
and  whistle  about  the  gables  ;  witches  and 
warlocks  would  whirl  about  upon  the  weather- 
cocks, and  scream  down  the  chimneys ;  nay, 
it  was  even  hinted  that  Wolfert's  wife  was  in 


:||f| 


250 


TKnoltert'd  IZoodt 


league  with  the  enemy,  and  used  10  ride  on  a 
broomstick  to  a  witches'  Sabbath  in  Sleepy 
Hollow.  This,  however,  was  all  mere  scandal, 
founded  perhaps  on  her  occasionally  flourish- 
ing a  broomstick  .  the  course  of  a  curtain 
lecture,  or  raising  a  storm  within  doors,  as 
termagant  wives  are  apt  to  do,  and  against 
which  sorcery  horse-shoes  are  of  no  avail. 

Wolfert  Acker  died  and  was  biiried,  but 
found  no  quiet  even  in  the  grave  ;  for  if  popu- 
lar gossip  be  true,  bis  ghost  has  occasionally 
been  seen  walking  by  moonlight  among  the 
old  gray  moss-grown  trees  of  his  apple  orchard. 


Cbronfcle  ff* 


THIv  next  period  at  which  we  find  this 
venerable  and  eventful  pile  rising  into 
importance,  was  during  the  dark  nd 
troublous  time  of  the  revolutionary  war.  It 
was  the  keep  or  stronghold  of  Jacob  Van 
Tassel,  a  valiant  Dutchman  of  the  old  stock 
of  Van  Tassels,  who  abound  in  Westchester 
County.  The  name,  as  originally  written, 
was  Van  Texel,  being  derived  from  the  Texel 
in  Holland,  which  gave  birth  to  that  heroic 
line. 

The  Roost  stood  in  the  very  heart  of  what 
at  that  time  was  called  the  debatable  ground, 
lying  between  the  British  and  American  lines. 
The  British  held  possession  of  the  city  and 
island  of  New  York ;  while  the  Americans 
drew  up  towards  the  Highlands,  holding  their 
head-quarters  at  Peekskill.  The  intervening 
country  from  Croton  River  to  Spiting  Devil 
Creek  was  the  debatable  ground  in  question, 

251 


2;3 


lIQlolfcrt'0  'Rooet 


IM 


I,'' 


i  '  1, 


i 


Hi: 


■^1 


Jiable  to  be  harried  by  friend  and  foe,  like  the 
Scottish  borders  of  yore. 

It  12.  a  rugged  region,  full  of  fastnesses.  A 
line  of  rocky  hills  extends  through  it  like  a 
backbone  sending  out  ribs  on  either  side  ;  but 
these  rude  hills  are  for  the  most  part  richly 
wooded,  and  enclose  little  fresh  pastoral  valleys 
watered  by  the  Neperan,  the  Pocantico,*  and 
other  beautiful  streams,  along  whi^h  the  In- 
dians built  their  wigwams  in  the  olden  time. 

In  the  fastnesses  of  these  hills,  and  along 
these  valleys,  existed,  in  the  time  of  which  I 
am  treating,  and  indeed  exist  to  the  present 
day,  a  race  of  hard-headed,  hard-handed,  stout- 
hearted yeomen,  descendants  of  the  primitive 

*The  Neperan,  vulgarly  called  the  Saw-Mill  River, 
winds  for  many  miles  through  a  lovely  valley, 
shrouded  by  groves,  and  dotted  by  Dutch  farm-houses, 
and  empties  itself  into  the  Hudson  at  the  ancient 
Dorp  of  Yonkers.  The  Pocantico,  rising  among 
woody  hills,  winds  in  many  a  wizard  maze  through 
the  sequestered  haunts  of  Sleepy  Hollow.  We  owe 
it  to  the  indefatigable  researches  of  Mr.  Knicker- 
bocker, that  those  beautiful  streams  are  rescued  from 
modem  commonplace,  and  reinvested  with  their  an- 
cient Indian  names.  The  correctness  of  the  venerable 
historian  may  be  ascertained  by  reference  to  the  records 
of  the  original  Indian  grants  to  the  Herr  Frederick 
Philipsen,  preserved  in  the  county  clerk's  office  at 
While  Plains. 


tIQIoItert'0  Voost 


253 


like  the 

sses.     A 
it  like  a 
ide;  but 
rt  richly 
il  valleys 
CO,*  and 
I  the  lu- 
ll time, 
nd  along 
■  which  I 
e  present 
led,  stout- 
primitive 

Mill  River, 
;ly  valley, 
irm-bouses, 
|the  ancient 
ng  among 
ize  through 
We  owe 

Knicker- 
iscued  from 
h  their  an- 
|e  venerable 

the  records 
Frederick 

's  office  at 


Nederlanders.  Men  obstinately  attached  to 
the  soil,  and  neither  to  be  fought  nor  bought 
out  of  their  paternal  acres.  Most  of  them 
were  strong  Whigs  throughout  the  war  ;  some, 
however,  were  Tories,  or  adherents  to  the  old 
kingly  rule,  who  considered  the  revolution  a 
mere  rebellion,  soon  to  be  put  down  by  his 
majesty's  forces.  A  number  of  these  took 
refuge  within  the  British  lines,  joined  the 
military  bands  of  refugees,  and  became  pio- 
neers or  leaders  to  foraging  parties  sent  out 
from  New  York  to  Scour  the  country  and 
sweep  off  supplies  for  the  British  Army. 

In  a  little  while  the  debatable  ground  became 
infested  by  roving  bands,  claiming  from  either 
side,  and  all  pretending  to  redress  wrongs  and 
punish  political  offences  ;  but  all  prone  in  the 
exercise  of  their  high  functions — to  sack  hen- 
roosts, drive  off  cattle,  and  lay  farm-houses 
under  contribution  ;  such  was  the  origin  of 
two  great  orders  of  border  chivalry,  the  Skin- 
ners and  the  Cow  Boys,  famous  in  revolu- 
tionary story  ;  the  former  fought,  or  rather 
marauded,  under  the  American,  the  latter, 
under  the  British  banner.  In  the  zeal  of  ser- 
vice, both  were  apt  to  make  blunders,  and 
confound  the  property  of  friend  and  foe. 
Neither  of  them  in  the  heat  and  hurry  of  a 
foray  had  time  to  ascertain  the  politics  of  a 


m-,^ 


254 


TIQloircrt'0  Vooet 


V.u    '    <;.■ 


M-:  i: 


Vv' 


i:  I 


horse  or  cow,  which  they  were  driving  off  into 
captivity  ;  nor,  when  they  wrung  the  neck  of 
a  rooster,  did  they  trouble  their  heads  whether 
he  crowed  for  Congress  or  King  George. 

To  check  these  enormities,  a  confederacy  was 
formed  among  the  yeomanry  who  had  suffered 
from  these  maraudings.  It  was  composed  for 
the  most  part  of  farmers*  sons,  bold,  hard- 
riding  lads,  well  armed,  and  well  mounted, 
and  undertook  to  clear  the  country  round  of 
Skinner  and  Cow  Boy,  and  all  other  border 
vermin  ;  as  the  Holy  Brotherhood  in  old  times 
cleared  Spain  of  the  banditti  which  infested 
her  highways. 

Wolfert's  Roost  was  one  of  the  rallying 
places  of  this  confederacy,  and  Jacob  Van 
Tassel  one  of  its  members.  He  was  eminently 
fitted  for  the  service ;  stout  of  frame,  bold  of 
heart,  and  like  his  predecessor,  the  warrior 
sachem  of  yore,  delighting  in  daring  enter- 
prises. He  had  an  Indian's  sagacity  in  discov- 
ering when  the  enemy  was  on  the  maraud,  and 
in  hearing  the  distant  tramp  of  cattle.  It  seemed 
as  if  he  had  a  scout  on  every  hill,  and  an  ear  as 
quick  as  that  of  Fine  Ear  in  the  fairy  tale. 

The  foraging  parties  of  tories  and  refugees 
had  now  to  be  secret  and  sudden  in  their  forays 
into  Westchester  County  ;  to  make  a  hasty 
maraud  among  the  farms,  sweep  the  cattle  into 


n 


'Qlllolfcrt'0  IRooet 


255 


off  into 
neck  of 
whether 

■«• 

racy  was 
suffered 
>osed  for 
d,  hard- 
noun  ted, 
ound  of 
r  border 
old  times 
infested 

rallying 
cob  Van 
iminently 
i,  bold  of 
s  warrior 
[ig  enter- 

n  discov- 
|raud,  and 
It  seemed 

an  ear  as 

tale, 
refugees 

leir  forays 
a  hasty 

:attle  into 


a  drove,  and  hurry  down  to  the  lines  along 
the  river  road,  or  the  valley  of  the  Neperan. 
Before  they  w^re  half-way  down,  Jacob  Van 
Tassel,  with  the  holy  brotherhood  of  Tarry- 
town,  Petticoat  Lane,  and  Sleepy  Hollow, 
would  be  clattering  at  their  heels.  And  now 
there  would  be  a  general  scamper  for  King's 
Bridge,  the  pass  over  Spiting  Devil  Creek, 
into  the  British  lines.  Sometimes  the  moss- 
tropers  would  be  overtaken,  and  eased  of  part 
of  their  booty.  Sometimes  the  whole  caval- 
gada  would  urge  its  headlong  course  across 
the  bridge  with  thundering  tramp  and  dusty 
whirlwind.  At  such  times  their  pursuers 
would  rein  up  their  steeds,  survey  that  perilous 
pass  with  wary  eye,  and,  wheeling  about,  in- 
demnify themselves  by  foraging  the  refugee 
region  of  Morrisania. 

While  the  debatable  land  was  liable  to  be 
thus  harried,  the  great  Tappan  Sea,  along 
which  it  extends,  was  likewise  domineered 
over  by  the  foe.  British  ships  of  war  were 
anchored  here  and  there  in  the  wide  expanses 
of  the  river,  mere  floating  castles  to  hold  it  in 
subjection.  Stout  galleys  armed  with  eighteen 
pounders,  and  navigated  with  sails  and  oars, 
cruised  about  like  hawks,  while  row-boats 
made  descents  upon  the  land,  and  foraged  the 
country  along  shore. 


m  ■ 


u 


256 


TPOoIferrd  VooBt 


u 


If' 


t  I 


»     ' 


.1         ! 


It  was  a  sore  grievance  to  the  yeomanr>' 
along  the  Tappan  Sea  to  behold  that  little 
Mediterranean  ploughed  by  hostile  prows,  and 
the  noble  river  of  which  they  were  so  proud 
reduced  to  a  state  of  thraldom.  Councils  of 
war  were  held  by  captains  of  market-boats 
and  other  river-craft,  to  devise  ways  and 
means  of  dislodging  the  enemy.  Here  and 
there  on  a  point  of  land  extending  into  the 
Tappan  Sea,  a  mud  work  would  be  thrown  up, 
and  an  old  field-piece  mounted,  with  which  a 
knot  of  rustic  artillerymen  would  fire  away 
for  a  long  summer's  day  at  some  frigate  dozing 
at  anchor  far  out  of  reach  ;  and  reliques  of 
such  works  may  still  be  seen  overgrown  with 
weeds  and  brambles,  with  perad venture  the 
half-buried  fragment  of  a  cannon  which  may 
have  burst. 

Jacob  Van  Tassel  was  a  prominent  man  in 
these  belligerent  operations  ;  but  he  was  prone, 
moreover,  to  carry  on  a  petty  warfare  of  his 
own  for  his  individual  recreation  and  refresh- 
ment. On  a  row  of  hooks  above  the  fireplace 
of  the  Roost,  reposed  his  great  piece  of  ord- 
nance,— a  duck,  or  rather  goose-gun,  of  unpar- 
alleled longitude,  with  which  it  was  said  he 
could  kill  a  wild-goose  half  way  across  the 
Tappan  Sea.  Indeed,  there  are  as  many- 
Wonders  told  of  this  renowned  gun,   as  of 


XQlolfcrrd  Itooet 


-5. 


the  enchanted  weapons  of  classic  story.  When 
the  belligerent  feeling  was  strong  upon  Jacob, 
he  would  take  down  his  gun,  sally  forth  alone, 
and  prowl  along  shore,  dodging  behind  rocks 
and  trees,  watching  for  hours  together  any 
ship  or  galley  at  anchor  or  becalmed,  as  a 
valorous  mouser  will  watch  a  rat-hole.  So 
sure  as  a  boat  approached  the  shore,  bang 
went  the  great  goose-gun,  sending  on  board  a 
shower  of  slugs  and  buckshot  ;  and  away  scut- 
tled Jacob  Van  Tassel  through  some  woody 
ravine.  As  the  Roost  stood  in  a  lonely 
situation,  and  might  be  attacked,  he  guarded 
against  surprise  by  making  loop-holes  in  the 
stone  walls,  through  which  to  fire  upon  an 
assailant.  His  wife  was  stout-hearted  as 
himself,  and  could  load  as  fast  as  he  could 
fire  ;  and  his  sister,  Nochie  Van  Wurmer,  a 
redoubtable  widow,  was  a  match,  as  he  said, 
for  the  stoutest  man  in  the  country.  Thus 
garrisoned,  his  little  castle  was  fitted  to  stand 
a  siege,  and  Jacob  was  the  man  to  defend  il  (..» 
the  last  charge  of  powder. 

In  the  process  of  time  the  Roost  became  one 
of  the  secret  stations,  or  lurking-places,  of  the 
Water  Guard.  This  was  an  aquatic  corps  in 
the  pay  of  government,  organisJed  to  range 
the  waters  of  the  Hudson,  and  keep  watch 
iupon  the  mpyements  of  the  enemy.     It  was 

•^        VOL.  II.— 17 


m 


f 


'^il 


258 


TIQloUcrt'0  l^oodt 


ii 


■!/■■  i-i 


mi 


composed  of  nautical  men  of  the  river,  and 
hardy  youngsters  of  the  adjacent  countrj', 
expert  at  pulling  an  oar  or  handling  a  musket. 
They  were  provided  with  whale-boats,  long 
and  sharp,  shaped  like  canoes,  and  formed  to 
lie  lightly  on  the  water,  and  be  rowed  with 
great  rapidity.  In  these  they  would  lurk  out 
of  sight  by  day,  in  nooks  and  bays,  and  behind 
points  of  land,  keeping  a  sharp  look-out  upon 
the  British  ships,  and  giving  intelligence  to 
head-quarters  of  any  extraordinary  movement. 
At  night  they  rowed  about  in  pairs,  pulling 
quietly  along  with  muffled  oars,  under  shadow 
of  the  land,  or  gliding  like  spectres  about 
frigates  and  guard-ships  to  cut  off  any  boat 
that  might  be  sent  to  shore.  In  this  way  they 
were  a  source  of  constant  uneasiness  and 
alarm  to  the  enemy. 

The  Roost,  as  has  been  observed,  was  one 
of  their  lurking-places  ;  having  a  cove  in  front 
where  their  whale-boats  could  be  drawn  up 
out  of  sight,  and  Jacob  Van  Tassel  being  a 
vigilant  ally,  ready  to  take  a  part  in  any 
'  *  scout  or  scrummage  * '  by  land  or  water.  At 
this  little  warrior  nest  the  hard-riding  lads 
from  the  hills  would  hold  consultations  with 
the  chivalry  of  the  river,  and  here  were  con- 
certed divers  of  those  daring  enterprises  which 
resounded  from  Spiting  Devil  Creek  even  unto 


er,  and 

:ountr>'. 
musket. 

;s,    long 
rmed  to 
ed  with 
urk  out 
1  behind 
)ut  upon 
gence  to 
)vement. 
,  pulling 
r  shadow 
es   about 
iny   boat 
way  they 
less    and 

was  one 
e  in  front 
rawn  up 
being  a 
;   in  any 
Iter.     At 
ling  lads 
ons  with 
ere  con- 
ies which 
:ven  unto 


TIQloItcrt'0  1R006t 


!59 


Anthony's  Nose.  Here  was  concocted  the 
midnight  invasion  of  New  York  Island,  and 
the  conflagration  of  Delancy's  Tory  mansion, 
which  makes  such  a  blaze  in  revolutionary 
history.  Nay,  more,  if  the  Traditions  of  the 
Roost  may  be  credited,  here  was  meditated, 
by  Jacob  Van  Tassel  and  his  compeers,  a  noc- 
turnal foray  into  New  York  itself,  to  surprise 
and  carry  oflf  the  British  commanders,  Howe  and 
Clinton,  and  put  a  triumphant  close  to  the  war. 

There  is  no  knowing  whether  this  notable 
scheme  might  not  have  been  carried  into  effect, 
had  not  one  of  Jacob  Van  Tassel's  egregious 
exploits  along  shore  with  his  goose-gun,  with 
which  he  thought  himself  a  match  for  any- 
thing, brought  vengeance  on  his  house. 

It  so  happened,  that  in  the  course  of  one  of 
his  solitary  prowls  he  descried  a  British  trans- 
port aground ;  the  stern  swung  toward  shore 
within  point-blank  shot.  The  temptation  was 
too  great  to  be  resisted.  Bang !  went  the ' 
great  goose-gun,  from  the  covert  of  the  trees, 
shivering  the  cabin-windows  and  driving  all 
hands  forward.  Bang  !  bang  !  the  shots  were 
repeated .  The  reports  brought  other  of  Jacob' s 
fellow  bush-fighters  to  the  spot.  Before  the 
transport  could  bring  a  gun  to  bear,  or  land  a 
boat  to  take  revenge,  she  was  soundly  pep- 
pered, and  the  coast  evacuated. 


.rn 


1/  J 


Si 

A) 

.  It 

Hi 


I'! 


Tie 


il 


r*s\ 


M 


fl 


260 


TlQloirerre  i^oodt 


If,  ■■;■ 


■  t  ; 


V% 


?|l! 


This  was  the  last  of  Jacob's  triumphs.  He 
fared  like  some  heroic  spicier  that  has  unwit- 
tingly ensnared  a  hornet  to  the  utter  ruin  of 
his  web.  It  was  not  long  after  the  above  ex- 
ploit that  he  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy 
in  the  course  of  one  of  his  forays,  and  was  car- 
ried  away  prisoner  to  New  York.  The  Roost 
itself,  as  a  pestilent  rebel  nest,  was  marked  out 
for  signal  punishment.  The  cock  of  the  Roost 
being  captive,  there  was  none  to  garrison  it 
but  his  stout-hearted  spouse,  his  redoubtable 
sister,  Nochie  Van  Wurnier,  and  Dinah,  a 
strapping  negro  wench.  An  armed  vessel  came 
to  anchor  in  front ;  a  boat  full  of  men  pulled 
to  shore.  The  garrison  5ew  to  arms  ;  that  is 
to  say,  to  mops,  broomsticks,  shovels,  tongs, 
and  all  kinds  of  domestic  weapons, — for  un- 
luckily the  great  piece  of  ordnance,  the  goose- 
gun,  was  absent  with  its  owner.  Above  all,  a 
vigorous  defence  was  made  with  that  most 
'  potent  of  female  weapons,  the  tongue.  Never 
did  invaded  hen-roost  make  a  more  vociferous 
outcry.  It  was  all  in  vain.  The  house  was 
sacked  and  plundered,  fire  was  set  to  each  corner, 
and  in  a  few  moments  its  blaze  shed  a  baleful 
light  far  over  the  Tappan  Sea.  The  invaders 
then  pounced  upon  the  blooming  Laney  Van 
Tassel,  the  beauty  of  the  Roost,  and  endeavored 
to  bear  her  off  to  the  boat.     But  here  was  the 


In . 


TRnoIfert'd  l^ocdt 


261 


tis.     He 
i  unwit- 
ruin  of 
bove  ex- 
te  enemy 
was  car- 
he  Roost 
irked  out 
he  Roost 
irrison   it 
ioubtable 
Dinah,    a 
issel  came 
len  pulled 
s ;  that  is 
:1s,  tongs, 
, — for  un- 
the  goose- 
30ve  all,  a 
that  most 
e.     Never 
vociferous 
lOUse  was 
ich  corner, 
1  a  baleful 
e  invaders 
aney  Van 
ndeavored 
ire  was  the 


real  tug  of  war.  The  mother,  the  aunt,  and 
the  strapping  negro  wench,  all  flew  to  the  res- 
cue. The  struggle  continued  down  to  the  very 
water's  edge,  when  a  voice  from  the  armed 
vessel  at  anchor  ordered  the  spoilers  to  desist ; 
they  relinquished  their  prize,  jumped  into  their 
boats,  and  pulled  off,  and  the  heroine  of  the 
Roost  escaped  with  a  mere  rumpling  of  her 
feathers. 

As  to  the  stout  Jacob  himself,  he  was  detained 
a  prisoner  in  New  Y  jrk  for  the  greater  part  of 
the  war  ;  in  the  meantime  the  Roost  remained 
a  melancholy  ruin,  its  stone  walls  and  brick 
chimneys  alone  standing,  the  resorts  of  bats  and 
owls.  Superstitious  notions  prevailed  about  it. 
None  of  the  country  people  would  venture  alone 
at  night  down  the  rambling  lane  which  led  to  it, 
overhung  with  trees,  and  crossed  here  and  there 
by  a  wild  wandering  brook.  The  story  went 
that  one  of  the  victims  of  Jacob  Van  Tassel's 
great  goose-gun  had  been  buried  there  in  un- 
consecrated  ground. 

Even  the  Tappan  Sea  in  front  was  said  to  be 
haunted.  Often  in  the  still  twilight  of  a  sum- 
mer evening,  when  the  sea  would  be  as  glass, 
and  the  opposite  hills  would  throw  their  pur- 
ple shadows  half  across  it,  a  low  sound  would 
be  heard  as  of  the  steady,  vigorous  pull  of  oars, 
though  not  a  boat  was  to  be  descried.     Some 


V 


.. 


If 


M 


.1 


:1 


'HI 


T 11 


■  ,t 


262 


WoltcxVs  Voost 


^1  ^^■'' 


I . 


might  have  supposed  that  a  boat  was  rowed 
along  unseen  under  the  deep  shadows  of  the 
opposite  shores  ;  but  the  ancient  traditionists 
of  the  neighborhood  knew  better.  Some  said 
it  was  one  of  the  whale-bc  ats  of  the  old  Water 
Guard,  sunk  by  the  British  ships  during  the 
war,  but  now  permitted  to  haunt  its  old  cruising 
grounds  ;  but  the  prevalent  opinion  connected 
it  with  the  awful  fate  of  Rambout  Van  Dam  of 
graceless  memory.  He  was  a  roistering  Dutch- 
man of  Spiting  Devil,  who  in  times  long  past 
had  navigated  his  boat  alone  one  Saturday  the 
v>'hole  length  of  the  Tappan  Sea,  to  attend  a 
quilting  frolic  at  Kakiat,  on  the  western  shore. 
Here  he  had  danced  and  drunk  until  midnight, 
when  he  entered  his  boat  to  return  home.  He 
was  warned  that  he  was  on  the  verge  of  Sun- 
day morning ;  but  he  pulled  ofif  neverthe- 
less, swearing  he  would  not  land  until  he 
reached  Spiting  Devil,  if  it  took  him  a 
month  of  Sundays.  He  was  never  seen  after- 
wards ;  but  may  be  heard  plying  his  oars,  as 
above  mentioned, — being  the  Flying  Dutchman 
of  the  Tapppn  Sea,  doomed  to  ply  between 
Kakiat  and  Spiting  Devil  until  the  day  of  judg- 
ment. 


Cbrontcle  If  f « 

THIS  revolutionary  war  was  over.  The 
debatable  ground  had  once  more  become 
a  quiet  agricultural  region ;  the  border 
chivalry  had  turned  their  swords  into  plough- 
shares, and  their  spears  into  pruning-hooks, 
and  hung  up  their  guns,  only  to  be  taken  down 
occasionally  in  a  campaign  against  wild  pigeons 
on  the  hills,  or  wild  ducks  upon  the  Hudson. 
Jacob  Van  Tassel,  whilome  earned  captive  to 
New  York,  a  flagitious  rebel,  had  come  forth 
from  captivity  a  "  hero  of  seventy-six.*'  In  z 
little  while  he  sought  the  scenes  of  his  former 
triumphs  and  mishaps,  rebuilt  the  Roost,  re- 
stored his  goose-gun  to  the  hooks  over  the  fire- 
place, and  reared  once  more  on  high  the 
glittering  weathercocks. 

Years  and  years  passed  over  the  time-honored 
little  mansion .  The  honeysuckle  and  the  sweet- 
brier  crept  up  its  walls  ;  the  wren  and  the 
Phoebe-bird  built  under  the  eaves  ;  it  gradually 

263 


'ii 


1:, 

■  H 
HI 


264 


'(IQlcUert'0  "Roodt 


->:M^S 


l.i     i: 


'i^ :  i  ^  li 


l^ecame  almost  hidden  among  trees,  through 
which  it  looked  forth,  as  with  half-shut  eyes, 
upon  the  Tappan  Sea.  The  Indian  spring, 
famous  in  the  days  of  the  wizard  sachem,  still 
welled  up  at  the  bottom  of  the  green  bank ; 
and  the  wild  brook,  wild  as  ever,  came  babbling 
down  the  ravine,  and  threw  itself  into  the  little 
:ove  where  of  yore  the  Water  Guard  harbored 
their  whale-boats. 

Such  vvas  the  state  of  the  Roost  many  years 
since,  at  the  time  vheii  Diedrich  Knickerbocker 
came  into  this  neigh  bor  hood,  in  the  course  of 
his  researches  anioiig  the  Dutch  families  for 
materials  for  his  immortal  history.  The  ex- 
terior of  the  eventful  little  pile  seemed  to  him 
full  of  promise.  The  crow-step  gables  were  of 
the  primitive  architecture  of  the  province. 
The  weathercocks  which  surmounted  them 
had  crowed  in  the  glorious  days  of  the  New 
Netherlands.  The  one  above  the  porch  had 
actually  glittered  of  yore  on  the  great  Vander 
Hey  den  palace  at  Albany. 

The  interior  of  the  mansion  fulfilled  its  ex- 
ternal promise.  Here  were  records  of  old 
times  ;  documents  of  the  Dutch  dynasty,  res- 
cued from  the  profane  hands  of  the  English 
by  Wolfert  Acker,  when  he  retreated  from  New 
Amsterdam.  Here  he  had  treasured  them  up 
like  buried    gold,   and  here  they  had  been 


\K 


TKloltcrrd  IRoost 


265 


miraculously  preserved  by  St.  Nicholas,  at  the 
time  of  the  conflagration  of  the  Roost. 

Here  then  did  old  Diedrich  Knickerbocker 
take  up  his  abode  for  a  time,  and  set  to  work 
with  intiquarian  zeal  to  decipher  these  precious 
documents,  which,  like  the  lost  books  of  I^ivy, 
had  baffled  the  research  of  former  historians  ; 
a!id  it  is  the  facts  drawn  from  these  sources 
which  give  his  work  the  preference,  in  point 
of  accuracy,  over  every  other  history. 

It  was  during  his  sojourn  in  this  eventful 
neighborhood  that  the  historian  is  supposed  to 
have  picked  up  many  of  those  legends,  which 
have  since  been  given  by  him  to  the  world,  or 
found  among  his  papers.  Such  was  the  legend 
connected  with  the  old  Dutch  Church  of  Sleepy 
Hollow.  The  Church  itself  was  a  monument 
of  by-gone  days.  It  had  been  built  in  the 
early  time  of  the  province.  A  tablet  over  the 
portal  bore  the  names  of  its  founders, — 
Frederick  Filipson,  a  mighty  man  of  yore, 
patroon  of  Yonkers,  and  his  wife  Katrina  Van 
Courtland,  of  the  Van  Courtlands  of  Croton  ; 
a  powerful  family  connection, — ^with  one  foot 
resting  on  Spiting  Devil  Creek,  and  the  other 
on  the  Croton  River. 

Two  weathercocks,  with  the  initials  of  these 
illustrious  personages,  graced  each  end  of  the 
Church,  one  perched  over  the  belfry,  the  other 


966 


'UaoUcrt'd  l^oodt 


1  :';i 


V   i^^M 


over  the  chancel.  As  usual  with  ecclesiastical 
weathercocks,  each  pointed  a  different  way  ; 
and  there  vi^as  a  perpetual  contradiction  be- 
tween them  on  all  points  of  windy  doctrine  ; 
emblematic,  alas  !  of  the  Christian  propensity 
to  schism  and  controversy. 

In  the  burying-ground  adjacent  to  the 
Church,  reposed  the  earliest  fathers  of  a  wide 
rural  neighborhood.  Here  families  were  gar- 
nered together,  side  by  side,  in  long  platoons, 
in  this  last  gathering  place  of  kindred.  With 
pious  hand  would  Diedrich  Knickerbocker 
turn  down  the  weeds  and  brambles  which  had 
overgrown  the  tombstones,  to  decipher  inscrip- 
tions in  Dutch  and  English,  of  the  names  and 
virtues  of  succeeding  generations  of  Van  Tas- 
sels, Van  Warts,  and  other  historical  worthies, 
with  their  portraitures  faithfully  carved,  all 
bearing  the  family  likeness  to  cherubs. 

The  congregation  in  those  days  v/as  of  a 
truly  rural  character.  City  fashions  had  not 
as  yet  stole  up  to  Sleepy  Hollow.  Dutch  sun- 
bonnets  and  honest  homespim  still  prevailed. 
Everything  was  in  primitive  style,  even  t*^  the 
bucket  of  water  and  tin  cup  near  the  door  in 
summer,  to  assuage  the  thirst  caused  by  the 
heat  of  the  weather  or  the  drought  of  the 
sermon.  v 

The  pulpit,  with  its  widespreading  sound- 


Moircrt'0  'Roodt 


267 


iastical 
;  way  ; 
ion  be- 
ctrine  ; 
pensity 

to    the 
a  wide 
ire  gar- 
latoons, 
With 
rbockcr 
lich  had 
inscrip- 
oies  and 
an  Tas- 
rorthies, 
ved,  all 

vas  of  a 
had  not 
tch  sun- 
revailed, 
jn  t*^  the 
door  in 
by  the 
of  the 

sound- 


ing-board, and  the  communion-table,  curiously 
carved,  had  each  come  from  Holland  in  the 
olden  time,  before  the  arts  had  sufl5ciently 
advanced  in  the  colony  for  such  achieve. aents. 
Aroimd  these  on  Sundays  would  be  gathered 
the  elders  of  the  church,  gray-headed  men, 
who  led  the  psalmody,  and  in  whom  it  would 
be  difl&cult  to  recognize  the  hard-riding  lads 
of  yore,  who  scoured  the  debatable  land  in  the 
time  of  the  revolution. 

The  drowsy  influence  of  Sleepy  Hollow  was 
apt  to  breathe  into  this  sacred  edifice ;  and 
now  and  then  an  elder  might  be  seen  with  his 
handkerchief  over  his  face  to  keep  off  the  flies, 
and  apparently  listening  to  the  dominie ;  but 
really  sunk  into  a  summer  slumber,  lulled  by 
the  sultry  notes  of  the  locust  from  the  neigh- 
boring trees. 

And  now  a  word  or  two  about  Sleepy  Hollow, 
which  many  have  rashly  deemed  a  fanciful 
creation,  like  the  Lubberland  of  mariners.  It 
was  probably  the  mystic  and  dreamy  sound 
of  the  name  which  first  tempted  the  historian 
of  the  Manhattoes  into  its  spellbound  mazes. 
Ashe  enc>^red,  all  nature  seemed  for  the  mo- 
ment to  awake  from  its  slumbers  and  break 
forth  in  gratulations.  The  quail  whistled  a 
welcome  from  the  cornfield  ;  the  loquacious 
cat-bird  flew  from  bush  to  bush  with  restless 


ji 


m 


fi' 


Iff  I 

r'.i 

'  i 


368 


TIQloltcrt'd  1^0001 


m  ■  ■ 


W    ' 


I 


wing  proclaiming  his  approach,  or  perked  in- 
quisitively  into  his  face  as  if  to  get  a  knowledge 
of  his  physiognomy.  The  woodpecker  tapped 
a  tattoo  on  the  hollow  apple-tree,  and  then 
peered  round  the  trunk,  as  if  asking  how  he 
relished  the  salutation ;  while  the  squirrel 
scampered  along  the  fence,  whisking  his  tail 
over  his  head  by  way  of  a  huzza. 

Here  reigned  the  golden  mean  extolled  by 
poets,  in  which  no  gold  was  to  be  found  and 
ven''  little  silver.  The  inhabitants  of  the 
Hollow  were  of  the  primitive  stock,  and  had 
intermarried  and  bred  in  and  in,  from  the 
earliest  time  of  the  province,  never  swarming 
far  from  the  parent  hive,  but  dividing  and  sub- 
dividing their  paternal  acres  as  they  swarmed. 

Here  were  smptl  farms,  each  having  its  little 
portion  of  meadow  and  cornfield  ;  its  orchard 
of  gnarled  and  sprawling  apple-trees  ;  its  gar- 
den, in  which  the  rose,  the  marigold,  and 
hollyhock,  grew  sociably  with  the  cabbage, 
the  pea,  and  the  pumpkin ;  each  had  its  low- 
eaved  mansion  redundant  with  white-headed 
children ;  with  an  old  hat  nailed  against  the 
wall  for  the  housekeeping  wren  ;  the  coop  on 
the  g^ass-plot,  where  the  motherly  hen  clucked 
round  with  her  vagrant  brood  :  each  had  its 
stone  well,  with  a  moss-covered  bucket  sus- 
pended to  the  long  balancing-pole,  according 


tLA'i 


llQloUert'0  1{oo0t 


96Q 


to  antediluvian  hydraulics  ;  while  within  doors 
resounded  the  eternal  hum  of  the  spinning- 
wheel. 

Many  were  the  great  historical  facts  which 
the  worthy  Diedrich  collected  in  these  lowly 
mansions,  and  patiently  would  he  sit  by  the 
old  Dutch  housewives  witt  a  child  on  his  knee, 
or  a  purring  grimalkin  on  his  lap,  listening  to 
endless  ghost  stories  spun  forth  to  the  hum- 
ming accompaniment  of  the  wheel. 

The  delighted  historian  pursued  his  explora- 
tions far  into  the  foldings  where  the  Pocantico 
winds  its  wizard  stream  among  the  mazes  of 
its  old  Indian  haunts ;  sometimes  running 
darkly  in  pieces  of  woodland  beneath  balanc- 
ing sprays  of  beech  and  chestnut ;  sometimes 
sparkling  between  grassy  borders  in  fresh,  green 
intei-vales ;  here  and  there  receiving  the  trib- 
utes of  silver  rills  which  came  whimpering 
down  the  hill-sides  h-om  their  parent  springs. 

In  a  remote  part  of  the  Hollow,  where  the 
Pocantico  forced  its  way  down  rugged  rocks, 
stood  Carl's  mill,  the  haunted  house  of  the 
neighborhood.  It  was  indeed  a  goblin-looking 
pile :  shattered  and  time-worn,  dismal  with 
clanking  wheels  and  rushing  streams,  and  all 
kinds  of  uncouth  noises.  A  horse-shoe  nailed 
to  the  door  to  keep  off  witches,  seemed  to  have 
lost  its  power ;  for  as  Diedrich  approached,  an 


•  4, 


*ri\i\ 


11 


■  m 

Ill 

••'r 


;  t 


«7o 


moiUtVa  Itoodt 


l!i 


ii 


old  negro  thrust  his  head  all  dabbled  with  flour 
out  of  a  hole  above  the  water-wheel,  and  grinned 
and  rolled  his  eyes,  and  appeared  to  be  the  very 
hobgoblin  of  the  place.  Yet  this  proved  to  be 
the  great  historic  genius  of  the  Hollow,  abound- 
ing in  that  valuable  information  never  to  be 
acquired  from  books.  Diedrich  Knickerbocker 
soon  discovered  his  merit.  They  had  long 
talks  together  seated  on  a  broken  millstone, 
heedless  of  the  water  and  the  clatter  of  the 
mill ;  and  to  his  conference  with  that  African 
sage  many  attribute  the  surprising,  though 
true  story,  of  Ichabod  Crane  and  the  Headless 
Horseman  of  Sleepy  Hollow.  We  refrain, 
however,  from  giving  farther  researches  of  the 
historian  of  the  Manhattoes  during  his  sojourn 
at  the  Roost,  but  may  return  to  them  in  future 
pages. 

Reader  !  the  Roost  still  exists.  Time,  which 
changes  all  things,  is  slow  in  its  operations 
on  a  Dutchman's  dwelling.  The  stout  Jacob 
Van  Tassel,  it  is  true,  sleeps  with  his  fathers  ; 
and  his  great  goose-gun  with  him :  yet  his 
stronghold  still  bears  the  impress  of  its  Dutch 
origin.  Odd  rumors  have  gathered  about  it, 
as  they  are  apt  to  do  about  old  mansions,  like 
moss  and  weather-stains.  The  shade  of  Wol- 
fert  Acker  still  walks  his  unquiet  rounds  at 
night  in  the  orchard  ;  and  a  white  figure  has 


TIBlol(ert'0  Vooet 


271 


th  flour 
grinned 
the  very 
ed  to  be 
abound- 
jr  to  be 
srbocker 
ad  long 
lillstone, 
r  of  the 
African 
though 
Headless 
refrain, 
,es  of  the 
s  sojourn 
in  future 

le,  which 
perations 
)ut  Jacob 
5  fathers ; 
:  yet  his 
its  Dutch 

about  it, 
ions,  like 
e  of  Wol- 

rounds  at 
figure  has 


now  and  then  been  seen  seated  at  a  window 
and  gazing  at  the  moon,  from  a  room  in  which 
a  young  lady  is  said  to  have  died  of  love  and 
green  apples. 

Mementos  of  the  sojourn  of  Diedrich  Knick- 
erbocker are  still  cherished  at  the  Roost.  His 
elbow-chair  and  antique  writing-desk  maintain 
their  place  in  the  room  he  occupied,  and  his 
old  cocked-hat  still  hangs  on  a  peg  against 
the  wall. 


i'  * 


m'v 


THE  BIRDS  OF  SPRING. 


It?'  <. 


MY  quiet  residence  in  the  country,  aloof 
from  fashion,  politics,  and  the  money- 
market,  leaves  me  rather  at  a  loss  for 
occupation,  and  drives  me  occasionally  to  the 
study  of  nature,  and  other  low  pursuits.  Hav- 
ing few  neighbors,  also,  on  whom  to  keep  a 
watch,  and  exercise  my  habits  of  observation, 
1  am  fain  to  amuse  myself  with  prying  into  the 
domestic  concerns  and  peculiarities  of  the  ani- 
mals around  me ;  and  during  the  present  sea- 
son have  derived  considerable  entertainment 
from  certain  sociable  little  birds,  almost  the 
only  visitors  we  have  during  this  early  part  of 
the  year. 

Those  who  have  passed  the  winter  in  the 
country  are  sensible  of  the  delightful  influences 
that  accompany  the  earliest  indications  of 
spring  ;  and  of  these,  none  are  more  delightful 

272 


dbe  Xix^e  or  Spring 


273 


than  the  first  notes  of  the  birds.  There  is  one 
modest  little  sad-colored  bird,  much  resembling 
a  wren,  which  came  about  the  house  just  on 
the  skirts  of  winter,  when  not  a  blade  of  grass 
was  to  be  seen,  and  when  a  few  prematurely 
warm  days  had  g^ven  a  flattering  foretaste  of 
soft  weather.  He  sang  early  in  the  dawning, 
long  before  sunrise,  and  late  in  the  evening, 
just  before  the  closing  in  of  night,  his  matin 
and  his  vesper  hyms.  It  is  true  he  sang  occa- 
sionallythroughout  the  day  ;  but  at  these  still 
hours  his  song  was  more  remarked.  He  sat  on 
a  leafless  tree,  just  before  the  window,  and 
warbled  forth  his  notes,  few  and  simple,  but 
singularly  sweet,  with  something  of  a  plaintive 
tone  that  heightened  their  effect. 

The  first  morning  that  he  was  heard  was  a 
joyous  one  among  the  young  folks  of  my 
household.  The  long,  death-like  sleep  of  win- 
ter was  at  an  end  ;  nature  was  once  more  awak- 
ening ;  they  now  promised  themselves  the 
immediate  appearance  of  buds  and  blossoms. 
I  was  reminded  of  the  tempest-tossed  crew  of 
Columbus,  when,  after  their  long  dubious  voy- 
age, the  field-birds  came  singing  round  the 
ship,  though  still  far  at  sea,  rejoicing  them 
with  the  belief  of  the  immediate  proximity  of 
land.  A  sharp  return  of  winter  almost  silenced 
my  little  songster,  and  dashed  the  hilarity  of 

VOL.  II.— 18 


ifi 


t    ^( 


274 


Zbc  JSir^d  of  Spring 


>      I 
i 


.  f  i: 


fl: 


If  ; 
II 


It '     i 


the  household  ;  yet  still  he  poured  forth,  now 
and  then,  a  few  plaintive  notes,  between  the 
frosty  pipings  of  the  breeze,  like  gleams  of 
sunshine  between  wintry  clouds. 

I  have  consulted  my  book  of  ornithology  in 
vain,  to  find  out  the  name  of  this  kindly  little 
bird,  who  certainly  deserves  honor  and  favor 
far  beyond  his  modest  pretensions.  He  comes 
like  the  lowly  violet,  the  most  unpretending, 
but  welcomest  of  flowers,  breathing  the  sweet 
promise  of  the  early  3'^ear. 

Another  of  our  feathered  visitors,  who  fol- 
low close  upon  the  steps  of  winter,  is  the  Pe- 
wit, or  Pe-wee,  or  Phoebe-bird  ;  for  he  is  called 
by  each  of  these  names,  from  a  fancied  resem- 
blance to  the  sound  of  his  monotonous  note. 
He  is  d  sociable  little  being,  and  seeks  the 
habitation  of  man.  A  pair  of  them  have  built 
beneath  my  porch,  and  have  reared  several 
broods  there  for  two  years  past, — their  nest 
being  never  disturbed.  They  arrive  early  in 
the  spring,  just  when  the  crocus  and  the  snow- 
drop begin  to  peep  forth  Their  first  chirp 
spreads  gladness  through  the  house.  "  The 
Phoebe-birds  have  come  !  "  is  heard  on  all 
sides ;  they  are  welcomed  back  like  members 
of  the  family,  and  speculations  are  made  upon 
where  they  have  been,  and  what  countries 
they  have  seen    during  their  long  absence. 


;rbe  JSicDd  of  Sprmg 


375 


h,  now 
ien  the 
ams  of 

)logy  in 
lly  little 
id  favor 
;e  comes 
tending, 
tie  sweet 

who  fol- 
;  the  Pe- 
ls called 
id  resem- 
)us  note, 
eeks  the 
ave  built 
i  several 
heir  nest 

early  in 
;he  snow- 

rst  chirp 
♦'The 

:d  on  all 
members 

lade  upon 
countries 
absence. 


Their  arrival  is  the  more  cheering,  as  it  is  pro- 
nounced by  the  old,  weather-wise  people  of  the 
country,  the  sure  sign  that  the  severe  frosts 
are  at  an  end,  and  that  the  gardener  may 
resume  his  labors  with  confidence. 

About  this  time,  too,  arrives  the  blue-bird, 
so  poetically  yet  truly  described  by  Wilson. 
His  appearance  gladdens  the  whole  landscape. 
You  hear  his  soft  warble  in  every  field.  He 
sociably  approaches  your  liabitation,  and  takes 
up  his  residence  in  your  vicinity.  But  why 
should  I  attempt  to  describe  him,  when  I  have 
Wilson's  own  graphic  verses  to  place  him 
before  the  reader  ? 

"  When  winter's  cold   tempests  and  snows  are  no 
more, 
Green  meadows  and  brown  furrowed  fields  reap- 
pearing, 
The  fishermen  hauling  their  shad  to  the  shore, 

And  cloud-cleaving  geese  to  the  lakes  are  a-steering ; 
When  first  the  lone  butterfly  flits  on  the  wing. 

When  red  glow  the  maples,  so  fresh  and  so  pie  sing, 
O  then  comes  the  bluebird,  the  herald  of  spring, 
And  hails  with  his  warblings  the  charms  of  the 
season. 

"  The  loud-pipijg  frogs  make  the  marshes  to  ring, 
Then  warm  grows  the  sunshine,  and  warm  grows  the 
weather ; 

The  blue  woodland  flowers  just  beginning  to  spring, 
And  spice-wood  and  sassafras  budding  together  ; 


I' 


111 


.1 


I- 


r 


m 


276 


tibc  JSirD0  of  5;  ring 


b    ii 


O  then  to  your  gardens,  ye  housewives,  repair, 
Your  walks  border  up,  sow  and  plant  at  your  leisure  ; 

The  bluebird  will  chant  --  om  -his  box  such  an  air, 
That  all  your  hard  toils  will  seem  truly  a  pleasure  ! 

•*  He  flits  through  the  orchard,  he  visits  each  tree, 

TL.  red  flowering  peach,  and  the  apple's  sweet 
blossom ! 
He  suaps  up  destroyers,  wherever  they  be. 

And    eizes  the  caitiflFs  that  lurk  in  their  bosoms  ; 
He  drags  the  vile  grub  from  the  com  it  devours. 

The  worms    from  the  webs    where  they  riot  and 
welter ; 
His  song  and  his  services  freely  are  ours, 

And  all  that  be  asks  is,  in  summer  a  shelter. 

"  The  ploughman  is  pleased  when  he  gleans  in  his 
train. 

Now  searching  the  furrows,  now  mounting  to  cheer 
him  ; 
The  gard'ner  delights  in  his  sweet  simple  strain. 

And  leans  on  his  spade  to  survey  and  to  hear  him. 
The  slow,  lingering  schoolboys  forget  they  '11  be  chid, 

While  gazing  intent,  as  he  warbles  before  them 
In  mantle  of  sky-blue,  and  bosom  so  red, 

That  each  little  loiterer  seems  to  adore  him." 


The  happiest  bird  of  our  .spring,  however, 
and  one  that  rivals  the  Ivuropean  lark,  in  my 
estimation,  is  the  Bobolinf  ohi,  or  Bobolink,  as 
he  is  commonly  called.  He  arrives  at  that 
choice  period  of  our  year,  which,  in  this  lati- 
tude, answers  to  the  description  of  the  month 


TTbe  XixTi  ot  Spring 


277 


of  May  so  often  given  by  the  poets.  With  us 
it  begins  about  the  middle  of  May,  and  lasts 
until  nearly  the  middle  of  June.  Earlier  than 
this  winter  is  apt  to  return  on  its  traces,  and 
to  blight  the  opening  beauties  of  the  year  ; 
and  later  than  this  begin  the  parching,  and 
panting,  and  dissolving  heats  of  summer. 
But  in  this  genial  interval,  nature  is  in  all  her 
freshness  and  fragrance  ;  ' '  the  rains  are  over 
and  gone,  the  flowers  appear  upon  the  earth, 
the  time  of  the  singing  of  birds  is  come,  and 
the  voice  of  the  turtle  is  heard  in  the  land. ' ' 
The  trees  are  now  in  their  fullest  foliage  and 
brightest  verdure  ;  the  woods  are  gay  with 
the  clustered  flowers  of  the  laurel ;  the  air  is 
perfumed  by  the  sweetbrier  and  the  wild  rose  ; 
the  meadows  are  enamelled  with  clover-blos- 
soms ;  while  the  young  apple,  the  peach,  and 
the  plum,  begin  to  swell,  and  the  cherr^r  to 
glow,  among  the  green  leaves. 

This  is  the  chosen  season  of  revelry  of  the 
Bobolink,  He  comes  amidst  the  pomp  and 
fragrance  of  the  season  ;  his  life  seems  all 
sensibility  and  enjoyment,  all  song  and  "Sun- 
shine. He  is  to  be  found  in  the  soft  bosoms 
of  the  freshest  and  sweetest  meadows,  and  is 
most  in  song  when  the  clover  is  in  blossom. 
He  perches  on  the  topmost  twig  of  a  tree,  or 
on  some  long,  flaunting  weed,  and,  as  he  rises 


^11 


il 


...  /1i 

Stirs 


:,,-  i^u;.- 


378 


Xlbc  JSfrD0  oi  Spring 


and  sinks  with  the  breeze,  pours  forth  a  sticces- 
sion  of  rich  tinkling  notes, — crowding  one 
upon  another,  like  the  outpouring  melody  of 
the  skylark,  and  possessing  the  same  rapturous 
character.  Sometimes  he  pitches  from  the 
summit  of  a  tree,  begins  his  song  as  soon  as 
he  gets  upon  the  wing,  and  flutters  tremulously 
down  to  the  earth,  as  if  overcome  with  ecstasy 
at  his  own  music.  Sometimes  he  is  in  pursuit 
of  ]u^  paramour ;  always  in  full  song,  as  if  he 
rA^ould  win  her  by  his  melody  ;  and  always  with 
ii*e  same  appearance  of  intoxication  and  delight. 
Of  a  1  the  birds  of  our  groves  and  meadows, 
the  Bobolink  was  the  envy  of  my  boyhood. 
He  crossed  my  path  in  the  sweetest  weather, 
and  the  sweetest  season  of  the  year,  when  all 
nature  called  to  the  fields,  and  the  rural  feeling 
throbbed  in  every  bosom  ;  but  when  I,  luck- 
less urchin  !  was  doomed  to  be  mewed  up, 
during  the  livelong  day,  in  that  purgatory  of 
boyhood,  a  school-room.  It  seemed  as  if  the 
little  varlet  mocked  at  me  as  he  flew  by  in  full 
song,  and  sought  to  taunt  me  with  his  happier 
lot.  Oh,  how  I  envied  him  !  No  lessons,  no 
task,  no  hateful  school ;  nothmg  bat  holiday 
frolic,  green  fields,  and  fine  weather.  Had  I 
been  then  more  versed  in  poetry,  I  might  have 
addressed  him  in  the  words  of  I^ogan  to  the 
cuckoo, — 


L.     .'H'i 


(Tbe  J8tr2>0  ot  Spring 


279 


a  succes- 
ling  one 
lelody  of 
rapturous 
from  the 
s  soon  as 
mulously 
h  ecstasy 
in  pursuit 
r,  as  if  he 
ways  with 
id  delight, 
meadows, 
boyhood. 
;  weather, 
,  when  all 
al  feeling 
|n  I,  luck- 
ewed  up, 
•gatory  of 
as  if  the 
bj  in  full 
|is  happier 
issons,  no 
t  holiday 
Had  I 
ight  have 
Ian  to  the 


"  Sweet  bird  !  thy  bower  is  ever  green, 
Thy  sky  is  ever  clear  ; 
Thou  bast  no  sorrow  in  thy  note, 
No  winter  in  thy  year. 

"  Oh  I  could  I  fly,  I  'd  fly -with  thee; 

We  'd  make,  on  joyful  wing, 

Our  annual  visit  round  the  globe, 

Companions  of  the  spring  ! " 

Further  observation  and  experience  have 
given  me  a  different  idea  of  this  little  feathered 
voluptuary,  which  I  will  venture  to  impart,  for 
the  benefit  of  my  schoolboy  readers,  who  may 
regard  him  with  the  same  unqualified  envy 
and  admiration  which  I  once  indulged.  I  have 
shown  him,  only  as  I  saw  him  at  first,  in  what 
I  may  call  the  poetical  part  of  his  career,  when 
he  in  a  manner  devoted  himself  to  eleganc 
pursuith  and  enjoyments,  and  was  a  bird  of 
music,  and  song,  and  taste,  and  ensibility, 
and  refinement.  While  this  lasted,  he  was 
sacred  from  injury  ;  the  very  schoolboy  would 
not  fling  a  stone  at  him,  and  tlie  merest  rustic 
would  pause  to  listen  to  his  strain.  But  mark 
the  difference.  As  the  year  advances,  as  the 
clover- blossoms  disappear,  and  the  spring  fades 
into  summer,  he  gradually  gives  up  his  elegant 
tastes  and  habits,  doffs  his  poetical  suit  of 
black,  assumes  a  russet  dusty  garb,  and  sinks 
to  the  gross  enjoyments  of  common   vulgar 


if 

ti 


III 


;*'  ii] 


ii:"        K 


H':' 


280 


(Tbe  36ird0  of  Spring 


birds.  His  notes  no  longer  vibrate  on  the  ear ; 
he  is  stuffing  himstilf  with  the  seeds  of  the  tall 
weeds  on  which  he  lately  swung  and  chanted 
so  melodiously.  He  has  become  a  don  vivani^ 
a  gourmand ;  wfth  him  now  there  is  nothing 
like  the  "joys  of  the  table."  In  a  little  while 
he  grows  tired  of  plain,  homely  fare,  and  is  off 
on  a  gastronomical  tour  in  quest  of  foreign 
luxuries.  We  next  hear  of  him,  with  myriads 
of  this  kind,  banqueting  among  the  reeds  of 
the  Delaware ;  and  grown  corpulent  with 
good  feeding.  He  has  changed  his  name  in 
travelling.  Bobohncoln  no  more, — he  is  the 
Reed-bird  now,  the  much-sought-for  tidbit  of 
Pennsylvania  epicures ;  the  rival  in  unlucky 
fame  of  the  ortolan  !  Wherever  he  goes,  pop  ! 
pop  !  pop  !  every  rusty  firelock  in  the  country 
is  blazing  away.  He  sees  his  companions  fall- 
ing by  thousands  around  him. 

Does  he  take  warning  and  reform?  Alas, 
not  he  !  Incorrigible  epicure  !  again  he  wings 
his  flight.  The  rice-swamps  of  the  South 
invite  him.  He  gorges  himself  among  them 
almost  to  bursting  ;  he  can  scarcely  fly  for 
corpulency.  He  has  once  more  changed  his 
name,  and  is  now  the  famous  Rice-bird  of  the 
Carolinas. 

Last  stage  of  his  career  ;  behold  him  spitted, 
with  dozens  of  his  corpulent  companions,  and 


Ci}6  Xitbe  of  Qpting 


281 


served  up,  a  vaunted  dish,  on  the  table  of  some 
Southern  gastronome. 

Such  is  the  story  of  the  Bobolink  ;  once 
spiritual,  musical,  admired  ;  the  joy  of  the 
meadows,  and  the  favorite  bird  of  Spring  ; 
finally,  a  gross  little  sensualist,  who  expiates 
his  sensuality  in  the  larder.  His  story  contains 
a  moral  worthy  the  attention  of  all  little  birds 
and  little  boys ;  warning  them  to  keep  to  those 
refined  and  intellectual  pursuits  which  raised 
him  to  so  high  a  pitch  of  popularity  during 
the  early  part  of  his  career  ;  but  to  eschew  all 
tendency  to  that  gross  and  dissipated  indul- 
gence which  brought  this  mistaken  little  bird 
to  an  untimely  end. 

Which  is  all,  at  present,  from  the  well-wisher 
of  little  boys  and  little  birds, 

Geoffrey  Crayon,  Gent. 


-<^> 


^■>\ 


u 


1,  'i 

1  ' 

i 

i 

!■;■ 
1 

1 

1 

)  ^^H| 

THE  CREOLE  VILLAGE. 


A  SKETCH    FROM   A   STEAMBOAT. 


[First  published  in  1837,] 


IN  travelling  about  our  motley  country, I  am 
often  reminded  of  Ariosto's  account  of  the 
moon,  in  which  the  good  paladin  Astolpho 
found  everything  garnered  up  that  had  been 
lost  on  earth.  So  1  am  apt  to  imagine  that 
many  things  lost  in  the  Old  World  are  treas- 
ured up  in  the  New;  having  been  handed 
down  from  generation  to  generation,  since  the 
early  days  of  the  colonies.  A  European  anti- 
quary, therefore,  curious  in  his  researches  after 
the  ancient  and  almost  obliterated  customs 
and  usages  of  his  country,  would  do  well  to 
put  himself  upon  the  track  of  some  early  band 
of  emigrants,  follow  them  across  the  Atlantic, 
and  rummage  among  their  descendants  on  our 
shores. 

a8a 


Cbe  Creole  X^iiia^c 


283 


^^ 


^GE 


\.T. 


ntry,  I  am 
lunt  of  the 
Astolpho 
had  been 
igine  that 
are  treas- 
handed 
since  the 
lean  anti- 
•ches  after 
customs 
o  well  to 
|arly  band 
Atlantic, 
,ts  on  our 


In  the  phraseology  of  New  Ktiglaiid  nii.;ht 
be  found  many  an  old  English  provincial  phrase 
long  sinct  obsolete  in  the  parent  country,  wiih 
some  quaint  relics  of  the  Roundheads  ;  while 
Virginia  cherishes  peculiarities  characteristic 
of  the  days  of  Khzabeth  and  Sir  ''alter 
Raleigh. 

In  the  same  way,  the  sturdy  yeo  f 

New  Jersey  and  Pennsylvania  keep  u^v  lUc.iiy 
usages  fading  away  in  ancient  Germany  ;  while 
many  an  honest,  broad  bottomed  custom,  nearly 
extinct  in  venerable  Holland,  may  be  found 
flourishing  in  pristine  vigor  and  luxuriance  in 
Dutch  villages,  on  the  banks  of  the  Mohawk 
and  the  Hudson. 

In  no  part  of  our  country,  however,  are  the 
customs  and  peculiarities  imported  from  the 
Old  World  by  the  earlier  settlers  kept  up  with 
more  fidelity  than  in  the  little,  poverty-stricken 
villages  of  Spanish  and  French  origin,  which 
border  the  rivers  of  ancient  Louisiana.  Their 
population  is  generally  made  up  of  the  descend- 
ants of  those  nations,  married  and  interwoven 
together,  and  occasionally  crossed  with  a  slight 
dash  of  the  Indian.  The  French  character, 
however,  floats  on  top,  as,  from  its  buoyant 
qualities,  it  is  sure  to  do,  whenever  it  forms  a 
particle,  however  small,  of  an  intermixture. 

In  these  serene  and  dilapidated  villages,  art 


y, 


lit 


■   ■itim    1 

'm  I 


'•'II 


:  tl 

Ml 


■Kl 


Mm 


(U    ; 


■m; 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


1^128     |25 

■JO   "^^     MIB 

■^  Uii  12.2 
[!?  Hi  "" 
i«    12.0 


■u 
u 

111 


1125  i  1.4 


I 

IJ4 


^ 


Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WIST  MAIN  STRUT 

WiBSTIR,N.Y.  14580 

(716)t72-4S0a 


►  ^% 


<?' 


^' 


2S4 


Zbc  Creole  Village 


i.M 


for. 


and  nature  stand  still,  and  the  world  forgets  to 
turn  round.  The  revolutions  that  distract 
other  parts  of  this  mutable  planet,  reach  not 
here,  or  pass  over  without  leaving  any  trace. 
The  fortunate  inhabitants  have  none  of  that 
public  spirit  which  extends  its  cares  beyond  its 
horizon,  and  imports  trouble  and  |)erplexity 
from  all  quarters  in  newspapers.  In  fact, 
newspapers  are  almost  unknown  in  these  vil- 
lages ;  and,  as  French  is  the  current  language, 
the  inhabitants  have  little  community  of  opin- 
ion with  their  republican  neighbors.  They 
retain,  therefore,  their  old  habits  of  passive 
obedience  to  the  decrees  of  government,  as 
though  they  still  lived  under  the  absolute  sway 
of  colonial  commandants,  instead  of  being  part 
and  parcel  of  the  sovereign  people,  and  having 
a  voice  in  public  legislation. 

A  few  aged  men,  who  have  grown  gray  on 
their  hereditary  acres,  and  are  of  the  good  old 
colonial  stock,  exert  a  patriarchal  sway  in  all 
matters  of  public  and  private  import ;  their 
opinions  are  considered  oracular,  and  their 
word  is  law. 

The  inhabitants,  moreover,  have  none  of 
that  eagerness  for  gain,  and  rage  for  improve- 
ment, which  keep  our  people  continually  on 
the  move,  and  our  country  towns  incessantly 
in  a  state    of   transition.     There   the  magic 


Zbc  Creole  Village 


885 


orgetb  to 

distract 
each  not 
,ny  trace. 
e  of  that 
>eyond  its 
)erplexity 

In  fact, 
these  vil- 
language, 
y  of  opin- 
rs.    They 
of  passive 
nment,  as 
olute  sway 
being  part 
nd  having 

VT.  gray  on 
e  good  old 
way  in  all 
ort ;  their 
and  their 

none  of 
►r  improve- 
inually  on 
incessantly 
the  magic 


phrases,  "town  lots,"  "water  privileges," 
"railroads,"  and  other  comprehensive  and 
soul-stirring  words  from  the  speculator's  vo- 
cabulary, are  never  heard.  The  residents 
dwell  in  the  houses  built  by  their  forefathers, 
without  thinking  of  enlarging  or  modernizing 
them,  or  pulling  them  down  and  turning  them 
into  granite  stores.  The  tre^s  under  which 
they  have  been  born,  and  have  played  in  in- 
fancy, flourish  undisturbed ;  though,  by  cut- 
ting them  down,  they  might  open  new  streets, 
and  put  money  in  their  pockets.  In  a  word, 
the  almighty  dollar,  that  great  object  of  uni- 
versal devotion  throughout  our  land,  seems  to 
have  no  genuine  devotees  in  these  peculiar 
villages ;  and  unless  some  of  its  missionaries 
penetrate  there,  and  erect  banking-houses  and 
other  pious  shrines,  there  is  no  knowing  how 
long  the  inhabitants  may  remain  in  their  pres- 
ent state  of  contented  poverty. 

In  descending  one  of  our  great  western  rivers 
in  a  steamboat^  I  met  with  two  worthies  from 
one  of  these  villages,  who  had  been  on  a  dis- 
tant excursion,  the  longest  they  had  ever  made, 
as  they  seldom  ventured  far  from  home.  One 
was  the  great  man,  or  Grand  Seigneur  of  th2 
villa'ge;  not  that  he  enjoyed  any  legal  privi- 
leges or  power  there,  everything  of  the  kind 
having  been  done  away  when  the  province  was 


>fi\ 


386 


Zbc  Creole  VilUiQe 


;  ! 


P    ( 


ceded  by  France  to  the  United  States.  His 
sway  over  his  neighbors  was  merely  one  of 
custom  and  convention,  out  of  deference  to  his 
family.  Beside,  he  was  worth  full  fifty  thou- 
sand dollars,  an  amount  almost  equal,  in  the 
imaginations  of  the  villagers,  to  the  treasures 
of  King  Solomon. 

This  very  substantial  old  gentleman,  though 
of  the  fourth  or  fifth  generation  in  this  coun- 
try, retained  the  true  Gallic  feature  and  de- 
portment, and  reminded  me  of  one  of  those 
provincial  potentates  that  are  to  be  met  with 
in  tiie  remote  parts  of  France.  He  was  of  a 
large  frame,  a  ginger-bread  complexion,  strong 
features,  eyes  that  stood  out  like  glass  knobs, 
and  a  prominent  nose,  which  he  frequently  re- 
galed from  a  gold  snuff-box,  and  occasionally 
blew  with  a  colored  handkerchief,  until  it 
sounded  like  a  trumpet. 

He  was  attended  by  an  old  negro  i  black 
as  ebony,  with  a  huge  mouth,  in  a  continual 
grin  ;  evidently  a  privileged  5.id  favorite  ser- 
vant, who  had  grown  up  and  grown  old  with 
him.  He  was  dressed  in  Creole  style,  with 
white  jacket  and  trousers,  a  stiff  shirt-collar, 
that  threatened  to  cut  off  his  ears,  a  bright 
Madras  handkerchief  tied  round  his  headf  and 
large  gold  ear-rings.  He  was  the  politest  ne- 
gro I  met  with  in  a  western  tour,  and  that  is 


(Tbe  Creole  X>i\\nQC 


287 


es.  His 
r  one  of 
ice  to  his 
ifty  thou- 
il,  in  the 
treasures 

n,  though 
this  coun- 
e  and  de- 
;  of  those 
met  with 
was  of  a 
ion,  strong 
lass  knobs, 
quently  re- 
ccasionally 
f,   until  it 

ti      i  black 
continual 
Lvorite  ser- 
11  old  with 
|style,  with 
ihirt-coUar, 
^s,  a  bright 
headt  and 
[politest  ne- 
Lnd  that  is 


saying  a  great  deal,  for,  excepting  the  Indians, 
the  negroes  are  the  most  gentlemanlike  person- 
ages to  be  met  with  in  those  parts.  It  is  true 
they  differ  from  the  Indians  in  being  a  little 
extra  polite  and  complimentary.  He  was  also 
one  of  the  merriest ;  and  here,  too,  the  negroes, 
however  we  may  deplore  their  unhappy  condi- 
tion, have  the  advantage  of  their  masters.  The 
whites  are,  in  general,  too  free  and  prosperous 
to  be  merry.  The  cares  of  maintaining  their 
rights  and  liberties,  adding  to  their  wealth, 
and  making  presidents  engross  all  their 
thoughts  and  dry  up  all  the  moisture  of  their 
souls.  If  you  hear  a  broad,  hearty,  devil-may- 
care  laugh,  be  assured  it  is  a  negro's. 

Besides  this  African  domestic,  the  seigneur 
of  the  village  had  another  no  less  cherished 
and  privileged  attendant.  This  was  a  huge 
dog,  of  the  mastiff  breed,  with  a  deep,  hanging 
mouth,  and  a  look  of  surly  gravity.  He 
walked  about  the  cabin  with  the  air  of  a  dog 
perfectly  at  home,  and  who  had  paid  for  his 
passage.  At  dinner-time  he  took  his  seat  be- 
side his  master,  giving  him  a  glance  now  and 
then  out  of  a  comer  of  his  eye,  which  bespoke 
perfect  confidence  that  he  would  not  be  for- 
gotten. Nor  was  he.  Every  now  and  then  a 
huge  morsel  would  be  thrown  to  him,  perad- 
venture  the  half-picked  leg  of  a  fowl,  which 


388 


Cbe  Creole  IDfllage 


he  would  receive  with  a  snap  like  the  spring- 
ing of  a  steel  trap, — one  gulp,  and  all  was 
down  ;  and  a  glance  of  the  eye  told  his  master 
that  he  was  ready  for  another  consignment. 

The  other  village  worthy,  travelling  in  com- 
pany with  the  seigneur,  was  of  a  totally  differ- 
ent stamp.  Small,  thin,  and  weazen-faced,  as 
Frenchmen  are  apt  to  be  repres€fnted  in  carica- 
ture, with  a  bright,  squirrel-like  eye,  and  a 
gold  ring  in  his  ear.  His  dress  was  flims)% 
and  sat  loosely  on  his  frame,  and  he  had  alto- 
gether the  look  of  one  with  but  little  coin  in 
his  pocket.  Yet,  though  one  of  the  poorest,  I 
was  assured  he  was  one  of  the  merriest  and 
most  popular  personages  in  his  native  village. 

Compare  Martin,  as  he  was  commonly  called, 
was  the  factotum  of  the  place — sportsman, 
schoolmaster,  and  land-surveyor.  He  could 
sing,  dance,  and  above  all,  play  on  the  fiddle, 
an  invaluable  accomplishment  in  an  old  French 
Creole  village,  for  the  inhabitants  have  a  heredi- 
tary love  for  balls  and  fetes.  If  they  work 
but  little,  they  dance  a  great  deal.  ;  and  a 
fiddle  is  the  joy  of  their  heart. 

What  had  sent  Compare  Martin  travelling 
with  the  Grand  Seigneur  I  could  not  learn. 
He  evidently  looked  up  to  him  with  great 
deference,  and  was  assiduous  in  rendering  him 
petty  attentions ;  from  which  I  concluded  that 


dbe  Creole  Village 


389 


he  lived  at  home  upon  the  crumbs  which  fell 
from  his  table.  He  was  gayest  when  out  of 
his  sight,  and  had  his  song  and  his  joke  when 
forward  among  the  deck  passengers ;  but, 
altogether,  Compare  Martin  was  out  of  his  ele- 
ment on  board  of  a  steamboat.  He  was  quite 
another  being,  I  am  told,  when  at  home  in 
his  own  village. 

Like  his  opulent  fellow-traveller,  he  too  had 
his  canine  follower  and  retainer, — and  one 
suited  to  his  different  fortunes, — one  of  the  civil- 
est,  most  unoffending  little  dogs  in  the  world. 
Unlike  the  lordly  mastiff,  he  seemed  to  think 
he  had  no  right  on  board  of  the  steamboat ;  if 
you  did  but  look  hard  at  him,  he  would  throw 
himself  upon  his  back,  and  lift  up  his  legs,  as 
if  imploring  mercy.  At  table  he  took  his  seat 
a  little  distance  from  his  master  ;  not  with  the 
bluff,  confident  air  of  the  mastiff,  but  quietly 
and  diffidently  ;  his  head  on  one  side,  with 
one  ear  dubiously  slouched,  the  other  hope- 
fully cocked  up  ;  his  under-teeih  projecting 
beyond  his  black  nose,  and  his  eye  wistfully 
following  each  morsel  that  went  into  his 
master's  mouth. 

If  Compare  Martin  now  and  then  should 
venture  to  abstract  a  morsel  from  his  plate,  to 
give  to  his  humble  companion,  it  was  edifying 
to  see   with   what    diffidence  the  exemplary 

VOL.  U.— 19 


290 


Zbe  Creole  Villn^c 


m 


little  animal  would  take  held  of  it,  with  the 
very  tip  of  his  teeth,  as  if  he  would  almost 
rather  not,  or  was  fearful  of  taking  too  great 
a  liberty.  And  then  with  what  decorum  would 
he  eat  it !  How  many  efforts  would  he  make 
in  swallowing  it,  as  if  it  stuck  in  his  throat ; 
with  what  daintiness  would  he  lick  his  lips ; 
and  then  with  what  an  air  of  thankfulness 
would  he  resume  his  seat,  with  his  teeth  once 
more  projecting  beyond  his  nose,  and  an  eye 
of  humble  expectation  fixed  upon  his  master. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  the  steam- 
boat stopped  at  the  village  which  was  the 
residence  of  these  worthies.  It  stood  on  the 
high  bank  of  the  river,  and  bore  traces  of 
having  been  a  frontier  trading-post.  There 
were  the  remains  of  stockades  that  once  pro- 
tected it  from  the  Indians,  and  the  houses  were 
in  the  ancient  Spanish  and  French  colonial 
taste,  the  place  having  been  successively  under 
the  domination  of  both  those  nations  prior  to 
the  cession  of  Louisiana  to  the  United  States. 

The  arrival  of  the  seigneur  of  fifty  thousand 
dollars,  and  his  humble  companion.  Compare 
Martin,  had  evidently  been  looked  forward  to 
as  an  event  in  the  village.  Numbers  of  men, 
women,  and  children,  white,  yellow,  and 
black,  were  collected  on  the  river  bank  ;  most 
of  them  clad  in  old-fashioned  French  garments. 


Zbc  Creole  DtUage 


391 


ith  the 
almost 
►o  great 
1  would 
le  make 
throat ; 

lis  lips ; 
k  fulness 
eth  once 
I  an  eye 
i  master. 
,e  steam- 
was  the 
i  on  the 
traces  of 
There 
►nee  pro- 
ses were 
colonial 
ily  under 
prior  to 
id  States, 
jthousand 
Compare 
>rward  to 
of  men, 
►w,     and 
ik  ;  most 
arments. 


and  their  heads  decorated  with  colored  hand- 
kerchiefs, or  white  nightcaps.  The  moment 
the  steamboat  came  within  sight  and  hearing, 
there  was  a  waving  of  handkerchiefs,  and 
a  screaming  and  bawling  of  salutations  and 
felicitations,  that  bafRe  all  description. 

The  old  gentleman  of  fifty  thousand  dollars 
was  received  by  a  train  of  relatives,  and  friends, 
and  children,  and  grandchildren,  whom  he 
kissed  on  each  cheek,  and  .who  formed  a  pro- 
cession in  his  rear,  with  a  legion  of  domestics, 
of  all  ages,  following  him  to  a  large,  old- 
fashioned  French  house,  that  domineered  over 
the  village. 

His  black  valef  de  chambre^  in  white  jacket 
and  trousers,  and  gold  ear-rings,  was  met  on 
the  shore  by  a  boon,  though  rustic  companion, 
a  tall  negro  fellow,  with  a  long  good-humored 
face,  and  the  profile  of  a  horse,  which  stoor? 
out  from  beneath  a  narrow-rimmed  straw  hat, 
stuck  on  the  back  of  his  head.  The  ex- 
plosions of  laughter  of  these  two  varlets  on 
meeting  and  exchanging  compliments,  were 
enough  to  electrify  the  country  round. 

The  most  hearty  reception,  however,  was 
that  given  to  Compare  Martin.  Everybody, 
young  and  old,  hailed  him  before  he  got  to 
land.  Everybody'  had  a  joke  for  Compare 
Martin,  and  Compare  Martin  had  a  joke  for 


293 


Zbe  Creole  tt)fUa0e 


.*r 


■)• 


:ii 


I     ' 
I'. 


Py     f      J 


'  i 


ii 


:      !■ 


everybody.  Even  his  little  dog  appeared  to 
partake  of  his  popularity,  and  to  be  caressed 
by  every  hand.  Indeed,  he  was  quite  a  dif- 
ferent animal  the  moment  he  touched  the 
land.  Here  he  was  at  home ;  here  he  was 
of  consequence.  He  barked,  he  leaped,  he 
frisked  about  his  old  friends,  and  then  would 
skim  round  the  place  in  a  wide  circle,  as  if 
mad. 

I  traced  Compare  Martin  and  his  little  dog 
to  their  home.  It  was  an  old  ruinous  Spanish 
house,  of  large  dimensions,  with  verandas 
overshadowed  by  ancient  elms.  The  house 
had  probably  been  the  residence,  in  old  times, 
of  the  Spanish  commandant.  In  one  wing  of 
this  crazy,  but  aristocratical  abode,  was  nestled 
the  family  of  my  fellow-traveller;  for  poor 
devils  are  apt  to  be  magnificently  clad  and 
lodged,  in  the  cast-off  clothes  and  abandoned 
palaces  of  the  great  and  wealthy. 

The  arrival  of  Compare  Martin  was  wel- 
comed by  a  legion  of  women,  children,  and 
mongrel  curs ;  and,  as  poverty  and  gayety 
generally  go  band-in-hand  among  the  French 
and  their  descendants,  the  crazy  mansion  soon 
resounded  with  loud  gossip  and  hght-hearted 
laughter. 

As  the  steamboat  paused  a  short  time  at  the 
village,  I  took  occasion  to  stroll  about  the  place. 


eared  to 
caressed 
te  a  dif- 
ched  the 
I  he  was 
aped,  he 
en  would 
:le,  as  if 

little  dog 
J  Spanish 
verandas 
he  house 
old  times, 
e  wing  of 
as  nestled 
for  poor 
clad  and 
abandoned 

was  wel- 
|dren,  and 
id  gayety 
le  French 
ision  soon 
it-hearted 

lime  at  the 
the  place. 


Zbc  Creole  V^llla^e 


293 


Most  of  the  houses  were  in  the  French  taste, 
with  casements  and  rickety  verandas,  but  most 
of  them  in  flimsy  and  ruinous  condition.  All 
the  wagons,  ploughs,  and  other  utensils  about 
the  place  were  of  ancient  and  inconvenient 
Gallic  construction,  such  as  had  been  brought 
from  France  in  the  primitive  days  of  the  colony. 
The  very  looks  of  the  people  reminded  me  of 
the  villages  of  France. 

From  one  of  the  houses  came  the  hum  of  a 
spinning-wheel,  accompanied  by  a  scrap  of  an 
old  French  chanson,  which  I  have  heard  many 
a  time  among  the  peasantry  of  Languedoc, 
doubtless  a  traditional  song,  brought  over  by 
the  first  French  emigrants,  and  handed  down 
from  generation  to  generation. 

Half  a  dozen  young  lasses  emerged  from  the 
adjacent  dwellings,  reminding  me,  by  their  light 
step  and  gay  costume,  of  scenes  in  ancient 
France,  where  taste  in  dress  comes  natural  to 
every  class  of  females.  The  trim  bodice  and 
colored  petticoat,  and  lUtle  apron,  with  its 
pockets  to  receive  the  hands  when  in  an  atti- 
tude for  conversation  ;  the  colored  kerchief 
wound  tastefully  round  the  head,  with  a  co- 
quettish knot  perking  above  one  ear  ;  and  the 
neat  slipper  and  tight-drawn  stocking,  with  its 
braid  of  narrow  ribbon  embracing  the  ankle 
wb^r^  it  peeps  from  its  mysterious  curtain.     It 


' 


I 


:  I  I 


•I 
•  ■) 

'1:  "I 


Mm 


% 


m 

t.¥Sft  |'A| 

1 

1 

[i 

1 

3 

H 

In 

fli 

.1 


394 


Cbc  Creole  Village 


/ .  I 


■U' 


is  from  this  ambush  that  Cupid  sends  his  most 
inciting  arrows. 

While  I  was  musing  upon  the  recollections 
thus  accidentally  summoned  up,  I  heard  the 
sound  of  a  fiddle  from  the  mansion  of  Compare 
Martin,  the  signal,  no  doubt,  for  a  joyous  gath- 
ering. I  was  disposed  to  turn  my  steps  thither, 
and  witness  the  festivities  of  one  of  the  very 
few  villages  I  had  met  with  in  my  wide  tour 
that  was  yet  poor  enough  to  be  merry  ;  but 
the  bell  of  the  steamboat  summoned  me  to 
re-embark. 

As  we  swept  away  from  the  shore,  I  cast  back 

a  wistful  eye  upon  the  moss-grown  roofs  and 

ancient  elms  of  the  village,  and  prayed  that 

the  inhabitants  might  long  retain  their  happy 

ignorance,  their  absence  of  all  enterprise  and 

improvement,  their  respect  for  the  fiddle,  and 

their  contempt   for  the  almighty   dollar.*    I 

fear,  however,  my  prayer  is  doomed  to  be  of  no 

avail.     In  a  little  while  the  steamboat  whirled 

nie  to  an  American  town,  just  springing  into 

bustling  and  prosperous  existence. 

*  This  phrase,  used  for  the  first  time  in  this  sketch, 
has  since  passed  into  current  circulation,  and  by  some 
has  been  questioned  as  savoring  of  irreverence.  The 
author,  therefore,  owes  it  to  his  orthodoxy  to  declare 
th^t  no  irreverence  was  intended  even  to  the  dollar 
itself;  which  he  is  aware  is  daily  becoming  more  and 
more  an  object  of  worship. 


(Cbe  Creole  V(Ua0e 


895 


The  surrounding  forest  had  been  laM  out  in 
town  lots  ;  frames  of  wooden  buildings  were 
rising  from  among  stumps  and  burnt  trees. 
The  place  already  boasted  a  court-house,  a  jail, 
and  two  banks,  all  built  of  pitie  boards,  on  the 
model  of  Grecian  temples.  There  were  rival 
hotels,  rival  churches,  and  rival  newspapers  ; 
together  with  the  usual  number  of  judges  and 
generals  and  governors  ;  not  to  speak  of  doc- 
tors by  the  dozen,  and  lawyers  by  the  score. 

The  place,  I  was  told,  was  in  an  astonishing 
career  of  improvement,  with  a  canal  and  two 
railroads  in  embryo.  Lots  doubled  in  price 
every  week ;  everybody  was  speculating  in 
land  ;  everybody  was  rich  ;  and  everybody  was 
growing  richer.  The  community,  however, 
was  torn  to  pieces  by  new  doctrines  in  religion 
and  in  political  economy  ;  there  were  camp- 
meetings,  and  agrarian  meetings ;  and  an 
election  was  at  hand,  which,  it  was  ex- 
pected, would  throw  the  whole  country  into 
a  paroxysm. 

Alas  !  with  such  an  enterprising  neighbor, 
what  is  to  become  of  the  poor  little  Creole 
village  ! 


i 


rii 


••'It  J 


ii 


^'m 


m 


M 


Si  ilKfti.'.i 


MOUNTJOY ; 


OR,   SOME    PASSAGES  OUT    OP*  THE  WPB  OF  A 

CASTI,E-BUII*DER.  ' 


tt ; 


1WAS  bom  among  romantic  scenery,  in  one 
of  the  wildest  parts  of  the  Hudson,  which 
at  that  time  was  not  so  thickly  settled  as 
at  present.  My  father  was  descended  from  one 
of  the  old  Huguenot  families,  that  came  over 
to  this  country  on  the  revocation  of  the  Edict 
of  Nantz.  He  lived  in  a  style  of  easy,  rural 
independence,  on  a  patrimonial  estate  that  had 
been  for  two  or  three  generations  in  the  family. 
He  was  an  indolent,  good-natured  man,  took 
the  world  as  it  went,  and  had  a  kind  of  laugh- 
ing philosophy,  that  parried  all  rubs  and  mis- 
haps, and  served  him  in  the  place  of  wisdom. 
This  was  the  part  of  his  character  least  to  my 
taste ;  for  I  was  of  an  enthusiastic,  excitable 

396 


Aountjoj? 


297 


IFK  Olf  A 


iry,  in  one 
«)n,  which 

settled  as 
d  from  one 
came  over 

the  Edict 

asy,  rural 
;e  that  had 

:he  family. 

man,  took 
of  laugh- 

is  and  mis- 

»f  wisdom. 

Ileast  to  my 
excitable 


temperament,  prone  to  kindle  up  with  new 
schemes  and  projects,  and  he  was  apt  to  dash 
my  sallying  enthusiasm  by  some  unlucky  joke  ; 
so  that  whenever  I  was  in  a  glow  with  any 
sudden  excitement,  I  stood  in  mortal  dread  of 
his  good  humor. 

Yet  he  indulged  me  in  every  vagary,  for  I 
was  an  only  son,  and  of  course  a  personage  of 
importance  in  the  household.  I  had  two  sis- 
ters older  than  myself,  and  one  younger.  The 
former  were  educated  at  New  York,  under  the 
eye  of  a  maiden  aunt ;  the  latter  remained  at 
home,  and  was  my  cherished  playmate,  the 
companion  of  my  thoughts.  We  were  two  im- 
aginative little  beings,  of  quick  susceptibility, 
and  prone  to  see  wonders  and  mysteries  in 
everything  around  us.  Scarce  had  we  learned 
to  read,  when  our  mother  made  us  holiday 
presents  of  all  the  nursery  literature  of  the  day, 
which  at  that  time  consisted  of  little  books  cov- 
ered with  gilt  paper,  adorned  with  **  cuts,"  and 
filled  with  tales  of  fairies,  giants,  and  enchan- 
ters. What  draughts  of  delightful  fiction  did 
we  then  inhale  !  My  sister  Sophy  was  of  a  soft 
and  tender  nature.  She  would  weep  over  the 
woes  of  the  Children  in  the  Wood,  or  quake  at 
the  dark  romance  of  Blue-Beard,  and  the  terri- 
ble mysteries  of  the  blue  chamber.  But  I  was 
all  for  enterprise  and  adventure.     I  burned  to 


f: 


si 
111 


398 


Aountjofi 


i*i  ' 


emulate  the  deeds  of  that  heroic  prince  who 
dehvered  the  white  cat  from  her  enchantment ; 
or  he  of  no  less  royal  blood  and  doughty  em- 
prise, who  broke  the  charmed  slumber  of  the 
Beauty  in  the  Wood  ! 

The  house  in  which  we  lived  was  just  the 
kind  of  place  to  foster  such  propensities.  It 
was  a  venerable  mansion,  half  villa,  half  farm- 
house. The  oldest  part  was  of  stone,  with 
loopholes  for  musketry,  having  served  as  a 
family  fortress  in  the  time  of  the  Indians.  To 
this  there  had  been  made  various  additions, 
some  of  brick,  some  of  wood,  according  to  the 
exigencies  of  the  moment ;  so  that  it  was  full 
of  nooks  and  crooks,  and  chambers  of  all  sorts 
and  sizes.  It  was  buried  among  willows,  elms, 
and  cherry-trees,  and  surrounded  with  roses 
and  hollyhocks,  with  honeysuckle  and  sweet- 
brier  clambering  about  every  window.  A  brood 
of  hereditary  pigeoris  sunned  themselves  upon 
the  roof ;  hereditary  swallows  and  martins  built 
about  the  eaves  and  chimneys  ;  and  hereditary 
bees  hummed  about  the  flower-beds. 

Under  the  influence  of  our  story-books  every 
object  around  us  now  assumed  a  new  character, 
and  a  charmed  interest.  The  wild  flowers 
were  no  longer  the  mere  ornaments  of  the  fields, 
or  the  resorts  of  the  toilful  bee  ;  they  were  the 
lurking-places  of  fairies.     We  would  watch  the 


'Aountjois 


299 


nee  who 
Liitment ; 
^hty  em- 
er  of  the 

,  just  the 
iities.    It 
lalf  farm- 
jiie,  with 
ved  as  a 
ians.     To 
additions, 
ling  to  the 
it  was  full 
of  all  sorts 
lows,  elms, 
with  roses 
ind  sweet- 
A  brood 
elves  upon 
irtins  built 
hereditary 

ooks  every 
character, 

[Id  flowers 
the  fields, 

[y  were  the 
watch  the 


humming-bird,  as  it  hovered  around  the  trum- 
pet-creeper at  our  porch,  and  the  butterfly  as  it 
flitted  up  into  the  blue  air,  above  the  sunny 
tree-tops,  and  fancy  them  some  of  the  tiny 
beings  from  fairy  land.  I  would  call  to  mind 
all  that  I  had  read  of  Robin  Goodfellow,  and 
his  power  of  transformation.  Oh,  how  I  envied 
him  that  power  !  How  I  longed  to  be  able  to 
compress  my  form  into  utter  littleness,  to  ride 
the  bold  dragon-fly,  swinging  on  the  tall 
bearded  grass,  follow  the  ant  into  his  subter- 
raneous habitation,  or  dive  into  the  cavernous 
depths  of  the  honeysuckle  ! 

While  I  was  yet  a  mere  child,  I  was  sent  to 
a  daily  school,  about  two  miles  distant.  The 
schoolhouse  was  on  the  edge  of  a  wood,  close 
by  a  brook  overhung  with  birches,  alders,  and 
dwarf- willows.  We  of  the  school  who  lived  at 
some  distance  came  with  our  dinners  put  up  in 
little  baskets.  In  the  intervals  of  school  hours, 
we  would  gather  round  a  spring,  under  a  tuft 
of  hazel-bushes,  and  have  a  kind  of  picnic  ;  in- 
terchanging the  rustic  dainties  with  which  our 
provident  mothers  had  fitted  us  out.  Then, 
when  our  joyous  repast  was  over,  and  my  com- 
panions were  disposed  for  play,  I  would  draw 
forth  one  of  my  cherished  story-books,  stretch 
myself  on  the  greensward,  and  soon  lose  my- 
self in  its  bewitching  contents. 


'«  :  i 


^"Si^ 


300 


Aountjoi; 


;i!'.  ■':: 


Mi 


Mr   ,     '■  :hV'      |.   I  I     !;i  i 


I  became  an  oracle  among  my  schoolmates, 
on  account  of  my  superior  erudition,  and  soon 
imparted  to  them  the  contagion  of  my  infected 
fancy.  Often  in  the  evening,  after  school 
hours,  we  would  sit  on  the  trunk  of  some  fallen 
tree  in  the  woods,  and  vie  with  each  other  in 
telling  extravagant  stories,  until  the  whip- 
poor-will  began  his  nightly  moaning,  and  the 
fire-flies  sparkled  in  the  gloom.  Then  came 
the  perilous  journey  homeward.  What  delight 
we  would  take  in  getting  up  wanton  panics,  in 
some  dusky  part  of  the  wood  ;  scampering  like 
frightened  deer,  pausing  to  take  breath,  renew- 
ing the  panic,  and  scampering  off  again,  wild 
with  fictitious  terror  ! 

Our  greatest  trial  was  to  pass  a  dark,  lonely 
pool,  covered  with  pond-lilies,  peopled  with 
bull-frogs  and  water-snakes,  and  haunted  by 
two  white  cranes.  Oh  !  the  terrors  of  that 
pond !  How  our  little  hearts  would  beat,  as 
we  approached  it ;  what  fearful  glances  we 
would  throw  around !  And  if  by  chance  a 
plash  of  a  wild  duck,  or  the  guttural  twang  of 
a  bull-frog,  struck  our  ears  as  we  stole  quietly 
by — away  we  sped,  nor  paused  until  completely 
out  of  the  woods.  Then,  when  I  reached 
home,  what  a  world  of  adventures  and  imagi- 
nary terrors  would  I  have  to  relate  to  my  sister 
Sophy  I 


Aountjoi; 


301 


As  I  advanced  in  years,  this  turn  of  mind  in- 
creased upon  tae,  and  became  more  confirmed. 
I  abandoned  myself  to  the  impulses  of  a  roman- 
tic imagination,  which  controlled  my  studies, 
and  gave  a  bias  to  all  my  habits.  My  father 
observed  me  continually  with  a  book  in  my 
hand,  and  satisfied  himself  that  I  was  a  pro- 
found student ;  but  what  were  my  studies  ? 
Works  of  fiction,  tales  of  chivalry,  voyages  of 
discovery,  travels  in  the  East ;  everything,  in 
short,  that  partook  of  adventure  and  romance. 
I  well  remember  with  what  zest  I  entered  upon 
that  part  of  my  studies  which  treated  of  the 
heathen  mythology,  and  particularly  of  the 
sylvan  deities.  Then  indeed  my  school-books 
became  dear  to  me.  The  neighborhood  was 
well  calculated  to  foster  the  reveries  of  a  mind 
like  mine.  It  abounded  with  solitary  retreats, 
wild  streams,  solemn  forests,  and  silent  valleys. 
I  would  ramble  about  for  a  whole  day,  with  a 
volume  of  Ovid's  Metamorphoses  in  my  pocket, 
and  work  myself  into  a  kind  of  self-delusion, 
so  as  to  identify  the  surrounding  scenes  with 
those  of  which  I  had  just  been  reading.  I 
would  loiter  about  a  brook  that  glided  through 
the  shadowy  depths  of  the  forest,  picturing  it 
to  myself  the  haunt  of  Naiades.  I  would  steal 
round  some  bushy  copse  that  opened  upon  a 
glade,  as  if  I  expected  to  come  suddenly  upon 


■-*■ 


I 

i 


m 


E! 


302 


Aountjoi? 


I  711. 


i-i 


i  it 


Diana  and  her  nymphs  ;  or  to  behold  Pan  and 
his  satyrs  bounding,  with  whoop  and  halloo, 
through  the  woodland.  I  would  throw  my- 
self, during  the  panting  heats  of  a  summer 
noon,  under  the  shade  of  some  widespreading 
tree,  and  muse  and  dream  away  the  hours,  in 
a  state  of  mental  intoxication.  I  drank  in  the 
very  light  of  day,  as  nectar,  and  my  soul  seemed 
to  bathe  with  ecstasy  in  the  deep  blue  of  a 
summer  sky. 

In  these  wanderings  nothing  occurred  to  jar 
my  feelings,  or  bring  me  back  to  the  realities 
of  life.  There  is  a  repose  in  our  mighty  for- 
ests that  gives  full  scope  to  the  imagination. 
Now  and  then  I  would  hear  the  distant  sound 
of  the  wood-cutter's  axe,  or  the  crash  of  some 
tree  which  he  had  laid  low  ;  but  these  noises, 
echoing  along  the  quiet  landscape,  could  easily 
be  wrought  by  fancy  into  harmony  with  its 
illusions.  In  general,  however,  the  woody  re- 
cesses of  the  neighborhood  were  peculiarly  wild 
and  unfrequented.  I  could  ramble  for  a  whole 
day,  without  coming  upon  any  traces  of  cul- 
tivation. The  partridge  of  the  wood  scarcely 
seemed  to  shun  my  path,  and  the  squirrel,  from 
his  nut-tree,  would  gaze  at  me  for  an  instant, 
with  sparkling  eye,  as  if  wondering  at  the  un- 
wonted intrusion. 
'  I  cannot  help  dwelling  on  this  delicious  pe-r 


Aountjoi? 


303 


Pan  and 
I  halloo, 
row  uiy- 
summer 
preading 
hours,  in 
nk  in  the 
al  seemed 
blue  of  a 

red  to  jar 
e  realities 
Lighty  for- 
agination. 
tant  sound 
h  of  some 
se  noises, 
,uld  easily 
with  its 
woody  re- 
iliarly  wild 
■or  a  whole 
Ices  of  cul- 
»d  scarcely 
[irrel,  from 
in  instant, 
at  the  un- 

jlicious  pe^ 


riod  of  my  life  ;  when  as  yet  I  had  known  no 
sorrow,  nor  experienced  any  worldly  care.  I 
have  since  studied  much,  both  of  books  and 
men,  and  of  course  have  grown  too  wise  to  be 
so  easily  pleased ;  yet  with  all  my  wisdom,  I 
must  confess  I  look  back  with  a  secret  feeling 
of  regret  to  the  days  of  happy  ignorance,  before 
I  had  begun  to  be  a  philosopher. 

It  must  be  evident  that  I  was  in  a  hopeful 
training,  for  one  who  was  to  descend  into  the 
arena  of  life,  and  wrestle  with  the  w^orld.  The 
tutor,  also,  who  superintended  my  studies,  in 
the  more  advanced  stage  of  my  education,  was 
just  fitted  to  complete  the/a/a  morgana  which 
was  forming  in  my  mind.  His  name  was 
Glencoe.  He  was  a  pale,  melancholy-looking 
man,  about  forty  years  of  age ;  a  native  of 
Scotland,  liberally  educated,  and  who  had  de- 
voted himself  to  the  instruction  of  youth,  from 
taste  rather  than  necessity ;  for,  as  he  said, 
he  loved  the  human  heart,  and  delighted  to 
study  it  in  its  earlier  impulses.  My  two  elder 
sisters,  having  returned  home  from  a  city 
boarding-school,  were  likewise  placed  under 
his  care,  to  direct  their  reading  in  history  and 
belles-lettres. 

We  all  soon  became  attached  to  Glencoe. 
It  is  true  we  were  at  first  somewhat  prepos- 
sessed against  him.     His  meagre,  pallid  counte- 


I; 


\  ii 


!,>i 


n 

if 


3F 
:;?' 
a  I 

'-;■!. 


■% 


304 


Aountjois 


■'i-i 


W 


m :,  t.  r  ;i 


HI!' 


V.t^-  I  ' 


nance,  his  broad  pronunciation,  his  inattention 
to  the  little  forms  of  society,  and  an  awkward 
and  embarrassed  manner,  on  first  acquaintance, 
were  much  against  him  ;  but  we  soon  discov- 
ered that  under  this  unpromising  exterior 
existed  the  kindest  urbanity,  the  warmest 
sympathies,  the  most  enthusiastic  benevolence. 
His  mind  was  ingenious  and  acute.  His  read- 
ing had  been  various,  but  more  abstruse  than 
profound  ;  his  memory  was  stored,  on  all  sub- 
jects, with  facts,  theories,  and  quotations,  and 
crowded  with  crude  materials  for  thinking. 
These,  in  a  moment  of  excitement,  would  be, 
as  it  were,  melted  down  and  poured  forth  in 
the  lava  of  a  heated  imagination.  At  sucfi 
moments,  the  change  in  the  whole  man  was 
wonderful.  His  meagre  form  would  acquire 
a  dignity  and  grace ;  his  long,  pale  visage 
would  flash  with  a  hectic  glow  ;  his  eyes  would 
beam  with  intense  speculation  ;  and  there 
would  be  pathetic  tones  and  deep  modulation  is 
in  his  voice,  that  delighted  the  ear,  and  spoke 
movingly  to  the  heart. 

But  what  most  endeared  him  to  us,  was- the 
kindness  and  sympathy  with  which  he  entered 
into  all  our  interests  and  wishes.  Instead  of 
curbing  and  checking  our  young  imaginations 
with  the  reins  of  sober  reason,  he  was  a  little 
too  apt  to  catch  the  impulse,  and  be  hurried 


|m  fek:    fij 


attention 
awkward 
aintance, 
m  discov- 
exterior 
wannest 
levolence. 
His  read- 
truse  than 
)n  all  sub- 
itions,  and    , 
thinking, 
would  be, 
id  forth  in 
At  sucli 
i  man  was 
lid   acquire 
)ale  visage 
eyes  would 
and    thert: 
nodulation-^ 
and  spoke 

us,  was- the 
he  entered 
Instead  of 
laginations 

Iwas  a  little 
be  hurried 


Aountjoi? 


305 


away  with  us.  He  could  not  withstand  the 
excitement  of  any  sally  of  feeling  or  fancy,  and 
Was  prone  to  lend  heightening  tints  to  the  illu- 
sive coloring  of  youthful  anticipation. 

Under  his  guidance  my  sisters  and  myself 
soon  entered  upon  a  more  extended  range  of 
studies ;  but  while  they  wandered,  with  de- 
lighted minds,  through  the  wide  field  of  history 
and  belles-lettres,  a  nobler  walk  was  opened 
to  my  superior  intellect. 

The  mind  of  Glencoe  presented  a  singular 
mixture  of  philosophy  and  poetry.  He  was 
fond  of  metaphysics,  and  prdne  to  indulge  in 
abstract  speculations,  though  his  metaphysics 
were  somewhat  fine-spun  and  fanciful,  and 
his  speculations  were  apt  to  partake  of  what 
my  father  most  irreverently  termed  ' '  humbug. ' ' 
For  my  part,  I  delighted  in  them,  and  the 
more  especially  because  they  set  my  father  to 
sleep,  and  completely  confounded  my  sisters. 
I  entered,  with  my  accustomed  eagerness,  into 
this  new  branch  of  study.  Metaphysics  w^ere 
now  my  passion.  My  sisters  attempted  to  ac- 
company me,  but  they  soon  faltered,  and  gave 
out  before  they  had  got  half  way  through 
Smith's  Theory  of  Moral  Sentiments,  I,  how- 
ever, went  on,  exulting  in  my  strength. 
Glencoe  supplied  me  with  books,  and  I  de- 
voured them  with  appetite,  if  not  digestion. 


*;  'hI 


i'l 


ii 


VOL.  II. — ao 


3o6 


Aouiitjoc 


ii  I 


iW 


We  walked  and  talked,  together  under  the  trees 
before  the  house,  or  sat  apart,  like  Milton's 
angels,  and  held  high  converse  upon  the  themes 
beyond  the  grasp  of  the  ordinary  intellects. 
Glencoe  possessed  a  kind  of  philosophic  chiv- 
alry, in  imitation  of  the  old  peripatetic  sages, 
and  was  continually  dreaming  of  romantic 
enterprises  in  morals,  and  splendid  systems  for 
the  improvement  of  society.  He  had  a  fanciful 
mode  of  illustrating  abstract  subjects,  peculiarly 
to  my  taste  ;  clothing  them  with  the  language 
of  poetry,  and  throwing  round  them  almost  the 
magic  hues  of  fiction.  "How  charming," 
thought  I,  "is  divine  philosophy  "  ; 

"  Not  harsh  and  crabbed,  as  dull  fools  suppose, 
But  musical  as  is  Apollo's  lute  ; 
And  a  perpetual  feast  of  nectar'd  sweets, 
Where  no  crude  surfeit  reigns." 

I  felt  a  wonderful  self-complacency  at  being 
on  such  excellent  terms  with  a  man  whom  I 
considered  on  a  parallel  with  the  sages  of  an- 
tiquity, and  looked  down  with  a  sentiment  of 
pity  on  the  feebler  intellects  of  my  sisters,  who 
could  comprehend  nothing  of  metaphysics. 
It  is  true,  when  I  attempted  to  study  them  by 
myself  I  was  apt  to  get  in  a  fog ;  but  when 
Glencoe  came  to  my  aid,  everything  was  soon 


Aountjoi? 


307 


the  trees 
Milton's 
e  themes 
ntellects. 
hie  chiv- 
tic  sages, 
romantic 
stems  for 
a  fanciful 
)eculiarly 
language 
ilmost  the 
larming," 


suppose. 


:ets, 


at  being 
whom  I 
res  of  an- 
[timent  of 
iters,  who 
|taphysics. 
them  by 
|but  when 
was  soon 


as  clear  to  me  as  day.  My  ear  drank  in  the 
beauty  of  his  words  ;  my  imagination  was  daz- 
zled with  the  splendor  of  his  illustrations.  It 
caught  up  the  sparkling  sands  of  poetry  that 
glittered  through  his  speculations,  and  mistook 
them  for  the  golden  ore  of  wisdom.  Struck 
with  the  facility  with  which  I  seeemed  to  im- 
bibe and  relish  the  most  abstract  doctrines,  I 
conceived  a  still  higher  opinion  of  my  mental 
powers,  and  was  convinced  that  I  also  was  a 
philosopher.  . 

I  was  now  verging  toward  man's  estate,  and 
though  my  education  had  been  extremely  ir- 
regular,— following  the  caprices  of  my  humor, 
which  I  mistook  for  the  impulses  of  my  genius, 
— yet  I  was  regarded  with  wonder  and  delight 
by  my  mother  and  sisters,  who  considered  me 
almost  as  wise  and  infallible  as  I  considered 
myself.  This  high  opinion  of  me  was  strength- 
ened by  a  declamatory  habit,  which  made  me 
an  oracle  and  orator  at  the  domestic  board. 
The  time  was  now  at  hand,  however,  that  was 
to  put  my  philosophy  to  the  test. 

We  had  passed  through  a  long  winter,  and 
the  spring  at  length  opened  upon  us,  with  un- 
usual sweetness.  The  soft  serenity  of  the 
weather,  the  beauty  of  the  surrounding  coun- 
try, the  joyous  notes  of  the  birds,  the  balmy 
breath  of  flower  and  blossom,  all  combined  to 


I.  \ 

V  i: 

m 


m 


m 


1  w. : 


fi, 


%1 


Mi 


•II  ll 


h  i 


in-'  i  -  i 


^i  .    ;•  1 


li'- 


W' 


J 


I     I 


308 


Aountjov 


nil  my  bosom  with  indistinct  sensations  and 
nameless  wishes.  Amid  the  soft  seductions  of 
the  season  I  lapsed  into  a  state  of  utter  indo- 
lence, both  of  body  and  mind.  Philosophy  had 
lost  its  charms  for  me.  Metaphysics — faugh  ! 
I  tried  to  study  ;  took  down  volume  after  vol- 
ume, ran  my  eye  vacantly  over  a  few  pages, 
and  threw  them  by  with  distaste.  I  loitered 
about  the  house,  with  my  hands  in  my  pockets, 
and  an  air  of  complete  vacancy.  Something 
was  necessary  to  make  me  happy  ;  but  what 
was  that  something  ?  I  sauntered  to  the  apart- 
ments of  my  sisters,  hoping  their  conversation 
might  amuse  me.  They  had  walked  out,  and 
the  room  was  vacant.  On  the  table  lay  a  vol- 
ume which  they  had  been  reading.  It  was  a 
novel.  I  had  never  read  a  novel,  having  con- 
ceived a  contempt  for  works  of  the  kind,  from 
hearing  them  universally  condemned.  It  is 
true,  I  had  remarked  they  were  universally 
read ;  but  I  considered  them  beneath  the  at- 
t  ntion  of  a  philosopher,  and  never  would  ven- 
ture to  read  them,  less  I  should  lessen  my 
mental  superiority  in  the  eyes  of  mv  sisters. 
Nay,  I  had  taken  up  a  ^ork  of  the  hixid.  n-^w 
and  then,  when  I  knew  my  sisters  were  ob- 
servin^f  me,  looked  into  it  for  a  moment,  and 
then  laid  it  down,  with  a  slight  supercilious 
smile.     On  the  present  occasion,  out  of  mere 


Aountjos 


309 


list^  ssness,  I  took  up  the  vol  time,  and  turned 
over  a  few  of  the  first  pa^^es.  I  thought  I 
heard  some  one  coming,  and  hurl  it  down.  I 
was  mistaken  ;  no  one  was  near,  and  what 
I  had  read,  tempted  my  curiosity  to  read  a  lit- 
tle farther.  I  leaned  against  a  windc  v-fran  e, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  was  completely  lost  in 
the  btor\'.  How  long  I  stood  there  reading  I 
know  nol,  but  I  believe  for  nearly  two  hours. 
Suddenly  I  heard  my  sisters  on  the  sta  -s, 
when*  I  thrust  the  book  into  my  bosom,  and 
the  two  other  volumes,  which  lay  near,  into 
my  pockets,  and  hurried  out  of  the  house  to 
my  beloved  woods.  Here  I  remained  all  day 
beneath  the  trees,  bewildered,  bewitched  ;  de- 
vouring the  contents  of  these  delicious  volumes  ; 
and  only  returned  to  the  house  when  it  was 
too  dark  to  peruse  their  pages. 

This  novel  finished,  I  replaced  it  in  my 
sisters*  apartment,  and  looked  for  others.  Their 
stock  was  ample,  for  they  had  brought  home 
all  that  were  current  in  the  city  ;  but  my  appe- 
tite demanded  an  immense  supply.  All  this 
course  of  reading  was  carried  on  clandestinely, 
for  I  was  a  little  ashamed  of  it,  and  fearful  that 
my  wisdom  might  be  called  in  question  ;  but 
this  very  privacy  gave  it  additional  zest.  It 
was  "bread  eaten  in  secret  "  ;  it  had  the  charm 
of  a  private  amour. 


I 


% 


-■i; 


^  ■ 


'•t  }!\l 


■  'i 


h^^ 
"•»• 


310 


Aountjos 


I  ! 


But  think  what  must  have  been  the  effect  of 
such  a  course  of  reading  on  a  youth  of  my 
temperament  and  turn  of  mind  ;  indulged,  too, 
amidst  romantic  scenery,  and  in  the  romantic 
season  of  the  year.  It  seemed  as  if  I  had  entered 
upon  a  1? .;  V  scene  of  existence.  A  train  of 
combustible  feelings  were  lighted  up  in  me,  and 
my  soul  was  all  tenderness  and  passion.  Never 
was  youth  more  completely  love-sick,  though 
as  yet  it  was  a  mere  general  sentiment,  and 
wanted  a  definite  object.  Unfortunately,  our 
neighborhood  was  particularly  deficient  in 
female  society,  and  I  languished  in  vain  for 
some  divinity,  to  whom  I  might  offer  up  this 
most  uneasy  burden  of  affections.  I  was  at 
one  time  seriously  enamoured  of  a  lady  whom  I 
saw  occasionally  hi  my  rides  reading  at  the 
window  of  a  country-seat,  and  actually  sere- 
naded her  with  my  flute  ;  when,  to  my  confu- 
sion, I  discovered  that  she  was  old  enough  to 
be  my  mother.     It  was  a  sad  damper  to  my 

.  romance  ;  especially  as  my  father  heard  of  it, 
and  made  it  the  subject  of  one  of  those  house- 
hold jokes,  whict  he  was  apt  to  serve  up  at 
every  meal- time.  /> 

I  soon  recovered  from  this  check,  however, 

.f  but  it  was  only  to  relapse  into  a  state  of  amor- 
ous excitement.  I  passed  whole  days  in  the 
fields,  and  along  the  brooks  ;  for  there  is  spn*^- 


'ir 


r    .- 


Aountjos 


3" 


vhing  in  the  tender  passion  that  makes  us  alive 
to  the  beauties  of  Nature.  A  soft  sunshine 
morning  infused  a  sort  of  rapture  into  my 
breast ;  I  flung  open  my  arms,  like  the  Grecian 
youth  in  Ovid,  as  if  I  would  take  in  and  em- 
brace the  balmy  atmosphere.*  The  song  of 
the  birds  melted  me  to  tenderness.  I  would 
lie  by  the  side  of  some  rivulet  for  hours,  and 
form  garlands  of  the  flowers  on  its  banks,  and 
muse  on  ideal  beauties,  and  sigh  from  the 
crowd  of  undefined  emotions  that  swelled  my 
bosom. 

In  this  state  of  amorous  delirium,  I  was 
strolling  one  morning  along  a  beautiful  wild 
brook  which  I  had  discovered  in  a  glen. 
There  was  one  place  where  a  small  waterfall, 
leaping  from  among  rocks  into  a  natural  basin, 
made  a  scene  such  as  a  poet  might  have  chosen 
as  the  haunt  of  some  shy  Naiad.  It  was  here 
I  usuall/  retired  to  banquet  on  my  novels.  In 
visiting  the  place  this  morning,  I  traced  dis- 
tinctly, on  the  margin  of  the  basin,  which 
was  of  fine  clear  sand,  the  prints  of  a  female 
foot,  of  the  most  slender  and  delicate  propor- 
tions. This  was  sufficient  for  an  imagination 
like  mine.  Robinson  Crusoe  himself,  when 
he  discovered  the  print  of  a  savage  foot  on  the 
beach  of  his  lonely  island,  could  not  have  been 
*  Ovid's  Metamorphoses^  Book  vU. 


n 

P 

I*' 


11^ 


I.  II 


312 


AountJoiS 


I. 


■       I 


t  \ 


M'  ■ 


more    suddenly    assailed    with    thick-coming 
fancies. 

I  endeavored  to  track  the  steps,  but  they 
only  passed  for  a  few  paces  along  the  fine  sand, 
and  then  were  lost  among  the  herbage.  I 
remained  gazing  in  reverie  upon  this  passing 
trace  of  loveliness.  It  evidently  was  not  made 
by  any  of  my  sisters,  for  they  knew  nothing 
of  this  haunt ;  besides,  the  foot  was  smaller 
than  theirs  ;  it  was  remarkable  for  its  beautiful 
delicacy. 

My  eye  accidentally  caught  two  or  three 
half  withered  wild-flowers,  lying  on  the  ground. 
The  unknown  nymph  had  doubtless  dropped 
them  from  her  bosom  !  Here  was  a  new  docu- 
ment of  taste  and  sentiment.  I  treasured  them 
up  as  invaluable  relics.  The  place,  too,  where 
I  found  them,  was  remarkably  picturesque, 
and  the  most  beautiful  part  of  the  brook.  It 
was  overhung  with  a  fine  elm,  entwined  with 
grapevines.  She  who  could  select  such  a  spot 
who  could  delight  in  wild  brooks,  and  wild 
flowers,  and  silent  solitudes,  must  have  fancy, 
and  feeling,  and  tenderness ;  and,  with  all 
these  qualities,  she  must  be  beautiful ! 

But  who  could  be  this  Unknown,  that  had 
thus  passed  by,  as  i..  a  morning  dream,  leaving 
merely  flowers  and  fairy  footsteps  to  tell  of  her 
loveliness  !    There  was  a  mystery  in  it  that 


Aountjos 


313 


bewildered  me.  It  was  so  vague  and  disem- 
bodied, like  those  "airy  tongues  that  syllable 
men's  names"  in  solitude.  Every  attempt 
to  solve  the  mystery  was  vain.  I  could  hear 
of  no  being  in  the  neighborhood  to  whom  this 
trace  could  be  ascribed.  I  haunted  the  spot, 
and  became  more  and  more  enamoured.  Never, 
surely,  was  passion  more  pure  and  spiritual, 
and  never  lover  in  more  dubious  situation. 
My  case  could  only  be  compared  with  that  of 
the  amorous  prince,  in  the  fairy  tale  of  Cmder- 
ella ;  but  he  had  a  glass  slipper  on  which  to 
lavish  his  tenderness.  I,  alas  !  was  in  love  with 
a  footstep ! 

The  imagination  is  alternately  a  cheat  and  a 
dupe  ;  nay,  more,  it  is  the  most  subtle  of  cheats, 
for  it  cheats  itself,  and  becomes  the  dupe  of 
its  own  delusions.  It  conjures  up  **  airy  noth- 
ings, ' '  gives  to  them  a  '  *  local  habitation  and  a 
name, '  *  and  then  bows  to  their  control  as  im- 
plicitly as  if  they  were  realities.  Such  was 
now  my  case.  The  good  Numa  could  not  more 
thoroughly  have  persuaded  himself  that  the 
nymph  Egeria  hovered  about  her  sacred  foun- 
tain, and  communed  with  him  in  spirit,  than  I 
had  deceived  myself  into  a  kind  of  visionary 
intercourse  with  the  airy  phantom  fabricated 
in  my  brain.  I  constructed  a  rustic  seat  at  the 
foot  of  the  tree  where  I  had  discovered  the 


.     .   M     ^' 


''ill 

m 


1 


1 


m 


'I 


tiii 


!^ri 


r?    i 


w 


314 


Aountjos 


footsteps.  I  made  a  kind  of  bower  there, 
where  I  used  to  pass  my  mornings,  reading 
poetry  and  romances.  I  carved  hearts  and 
darts  on  the  tree,  and  hung  it  with  garlands. 
My  heart  was  full  to  overflowing,  and  wanted 
some  faithful  bosom  into  which  it  might  relieve 
itself  What  is  a  lover  without  a  confidante  ? 
I  thought  at  once  of  my  sister  Sophy,  my  early 
playmate,  the  sister  of  my  affections.  She  was 
so  reasonable,  too,  and  of  such  correct  feelings, 
always  listening  to  my  words  as  oracular  say- 
ings, and  admiring  my  scraps  of  poetry,  as 
the  very  inspirations  of  the  Muse.  From  such 
a  devoted,  such  a  rational  being,  what  secrets 
could  I  have  ? 

I  accordingly  took  her,  one  morning,  to  my 
favorite  retreat.  She  looked  around,  with  de- 
lighted surprise,  upon  the  rustic  seat,  the 
bower,  the  tree  carved  with  emblems  of  the 
tender  passion.  She  turned  her  eyes  upon  me 
to  inquire  the  meaning. 

"O  Sophy,"  exclaimed  I,  clasping  both  her 
hands  in  mine,  and  looking  earnestly  in  her 
face,  "  I  am  in  love  !  " 

She  started  with  surprise. 

"Sit  down,"  said  I,  "and  I  will  tell  you 
all." 

She  seated  herself  upon  the  rustic  bench, 
and  I  went  into  a  full  history  of  the  footstep, 


Aountjoi? 


315 


•   there, 
reading 
rts   and 
arlands. 
wanted 
t  relieve 
fidante  ? 
ny  early 
She  was 
feelings, 
liar  say- 
3etry,  as 
rom  such 
it  secrets 

^g,  to  my 
with  de- 
seat,    the 
IS  of  the 
upon  nie 

both  her 
ly  in  her 


tell  you 

ic  bench, 
footstep, 


( t 


( ( 


with  all  the  associations  of  idea  that  had  been 
conjured  up  by  my  imagination. 

Sophy  was  enchanted  ;  it  was  like  a  fairy 
tale :  she  had  read  of  such  mysterious  visita- 
tions in  books,  and  the  loves  thus  conceived 
were  always  for  beings  of  superior  order,  and 
were  always  happy.  She  caught  the  illusion, 
in  all  its  force ;  her  cheek  glowed ;  her  eye 
brightened. 

I  dare  say  she  's  pretty,"  said  Sophy. 
Pretty  !  "  echoed  I,  "she  is  beautiful  !  " 
I  went  through  all  the  reasoning  by  which  I 
had  logically  proved  the  fact  to  my  own  satis- 
faction. I  dwelt  upon  the  evidences  of  her 
taste,  her  sensibility  to  the  beauties  of  Nature  ; 
her  soft  meditative  habit,  that  delighted  in 
solitude;  "Oh,"  said  I,  clasping  my  hands, 
'  *  to  have  such  a  companion  to  wander  through 
these  scenes ;  to  sit  with  her  by  this  murmur- 
ing stream  ;  to  wreathe  garlands  round  her 
brow  ;  to  hear  the  music  of  her  voice  mingling 
with  the  whisperings  of  these  groves " 

"Delightful!  delightful!"  cried  Sophy; 
"what  a  sweet  creature  she  must  be!  She 
is  just  the  friend  I  want.  How  I  shall  dote 
upon  her!  Oh,  my  dear  brother!  you  must 
not  keep  her  all  to  yourself.  You  must  let  me 
have  some  share  of  her  ! ' ' 

I  caught  her  to  my  bosom :  "You  shall — 


i     t 


''■■i 


'*"§ 


i4 


:/< 

,    ■       '; 

:i.. 

\<. 

y 

-1 

316 


Aountjois 


Bf 


.'»■      !■ 


I 

Mi 


'      i 


1 1  f 

I  !  1 
I  I  I 


you  shall !  "  cried  I,  "my  dear  Sophy  ;  we  will 
all  live  for  each  other  !  " 

The  conversation  with  Sophy  heightened 
the  illusions  of  mind ;  and  the  manner  in 
which  she  had  treated  my  day-dream,  identi- 
fied it  with  facts  and  persons,  and  gave  it  still 
more  the  stamp  of  reality.  I  walked  about  as 
one  in  a  trance,  heedless  of  the  world  around, 
and  lapped  in  an  elysium  of  the  fancy. 

In  this  mood  I  met,  one  morning,  with 
Glencoe.  He  accosted  me  with  his  usual 
smile,  and  was  proceeding  with  some  general 
observations,  but  paused  and  fixed  on  me  an 
inquiring  eye. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you?  "  said  he  ; 
*  *  you  seem  agitated  ;  has  anything  in  particu- 
lar happened?" 

"Nothing,"  said  I,  hesitating;  "at  least 
nothing  worth  communicating  to  you." 

"Nay,  my  dear  young  friend,"  said  he, 
"whatever  is  of  sufficient  importance  to  agi- 
tate you,  is  worthy  of  being  communicated 
tome." 

"Well — but  my  thoughts  are  running  on 
what  you  would  think  a  frivolous  subject." 

"  No  subject  is  frivolous  that  has  the  power 
to  awaken  strong  feelings." 

"What  think  you,"  said  I,  hesitating, 
"  what  think  you  of  love  ?  " 


Aountjos 


317 


Glencoe  almost  started  at  the  question. 
"Do  you  call  that  a  frivolous  subject?"  re- 
plied he.  "  Believe  me,  there  is  none  fraught 
with  such  deep,  such  vital  interest.  If  you 
talk,  indeed,  of  the  capricious  inclination 
awakened  by  the  mere  charm  of  perishable 
beauty,  I  grant  it  to  be  idle  in  the  extreme ; 
but  that  love  which  springs  from  the  concor- 
dant sympathies  of  virtuous  hearts  ;  that  love 
which  is  awakened  by  the  perception  of  moral 
excellence,  and  fed  by  meditation  on  intel- 
lectual as  well  as  personal  beauty ;  that  is  a 
passion  which  refines  and  enobles  the  human 
heart.  Oh,  where  is  there  a  sight  more  nearly 
approaching  to  the  intercourse  of  angels,  than 
that  of  two  young  beings,  free  from  the  sins 
and  follies  of  the  world,  mingling  pure 
thoughts,  and  looks,  and  feelings,  and  becom- 
ing as  it  were  soul  of  one  soul,  and  heart  of 
one  heart !  How  exquisite  the  silent  con- 
verse that  they  hold  ;  the  soft  devotion  of  the 
eye,  that  needs  no  words  to  make  it  eloquent ! 
Yes,  my  friend,  if  there  be  anything  in  this 
weary  world  worthy  of  heaven,  it  is  the  pure 
bliss  of  such  a  mutual  afifection  !  " 

The  words  of  my  worthy  tutor  overcame 
all  farther  reserve.  "Mr.  Glencoe,"  cried  I, 
blushing  still  deeper,  "  I  am  in  love  ! ' ' 

*'  And  is  that  what  you  were  ashamed  to  tell 


lit 


r   :    't 


in  i 


III'''  I 


il:= 


•ir 


y 


i: 


i  :  ■  1 


3i8 


Aountjoi^ 


me?  Oh,  never  seek  to  conceal  from  your 
friend  so  important  a  secret.  If  your  passion 
be  unworthy,  it  is  for  the  steady  hand  of 
friendship  to  pluck  it  forth :  if  honorable, 
none  but  an  enemy  would  seek  to  stifle  it.  On 
nothing  does  the  character  and  happiness  so 
much  depend,  as  on  the  first  affection  of  the 
heart.  Were  you  caught  by  some  fleeting  or 
superficial  charm — a  bright  eye,  a  blooming 
cheek,  a  soft  voice,  or  a  voluptuous  form — I 
would  warn  you  to  beware  ;  I  would  tell  you 
that  beauty  is  but  a  passing  gleam  of  the 
morning,  a  perishable  flower ;  that  accident 
may  becloud  and  blight  it,  and  that  at  best  it 
must  soon  pass  away.  But  were  you  in  love 
with  such  a  one  as  I  could  describe  ;  young  in 
years,  but  still  younger  in  feelings ;  lovely  in 
person,  but  as  a  type  of  the  mind's  beauty  ; 
soft  in  voice,  in  token  of  gentleness  of  spirit  ; 
blooming  in  countenance,  like  the  rosy  tints 
of  morning  kindling  with  the  promise  of  a 
genial  day  ;  an  eye  beaming  with  the  benig- 
nity of  a  happy  heart ;  a  cheerful  temper, 
alive  to  all  kind  impulses,  and  frankly  diffusing 
its  own  felicity  ;  a  self- poised  mind,  that  needs 
not  lean  on  others  for  support ;  an  elegant 
taste,  that  can  embellish  solitude,  and  furnish 

out  its  own  enjoyments " 

"  My  dear  sir,"  cried  I.  for  I  could  contain 


Aouittjoi? 


319 


n  yout 
passion 
and  of 
lorable, 
it.    On 
iness  so 
a  of  the 
leting  or 
looming 
form — I 
tell  you 

I  of  the 
accident 
it  best  it 

II  in  love 
young  in 
lovely  in 

beauty  ; 
of  spirit ; 
rosy  tints 
lise  of  a 
le  benig- 
temper, 
diffusing 
hat  needs 
elegant 
d  furnish 

d  contain 


myself  no  longer,  **  you  have  descril)ed  the 
very  person  ! ' ' 

"Why  then,  my  dear  young  friend,"  said 
he,  affectionately  pressing  my  hand,  '*  in  God's 
name,  love  on  !  " 

For  the  remainder  of  the  day  I  was  in  some 
such  state  of  dreamy  beatitude  as  a  Tnrk  is 
said  to  enjoy  when  under  the  influence  of 
opium.  It  must  be  already  manifest  how 
prone  I  was  to  bewilder  myself  with  picturings 
of  the  fancy,  so  as  to  confound  them  with  exist- 
ing realities.  In  the  present  instance,  Sophy 
and  Glencoe  had  contributed  to  promote  the 
transient  delusion.  Soph}',  dear  girl,  had  as 
usual  joined  with  me  in  my  castle-building, 
and  indulged  in  the  same  train  of  imaginings, 
while  Glencoe,  duped  by  my  enthusiasm,  firmly 
believed  that  I  spoke  of  a  being  I  had  seen  and 
known.  By  their  sympathy  with  my  feelings, 
they  in  a  manner  became  associated  with  the 
Unknown  in  my  mind,  and  thus  linked  her 
with  the  circle  of  my  intimacy. 

In  the  evening  our  family  party  was  assem- 
bled in  the  hall,  to  enjoy  the  refreshing  breeze. 
Sophy  was  playing  some  favorite  Scotch  airs 
on  the  piano,  while  Glencoe,  seated  apart,  with 
his  forehead  resting  on  his  hand,  was  buried 
in  one  of  those  pensive  reveries,  that  made  him 
so  interesting  to  me.         \  . 


•i^ 


'.j^ 


U 


lili 


ml 


'P11 


H 


hi 

■'.;i  1 


m 


4;'  If 


vi     < 


11- 


w 

iff 

in 


i 


>  ■ 

iti 


320 


Aountjoi? 


i< 


What  a  fortunate  being  I  am  !  "  thought  I, 
"  blessed  with  such  a  sister  and  such  a  friend  ! 
I  have  only  to  find  out  this  amiable  Unknown, 
to  wed  her,  and  be  happy  !  What  a  paradise 
will  be  my  home,  graced  with  a  partner  of  such 
exquisite  refinement !  It  will  be  a  perfect  fairy 
bower,  buried  among  sweets  and  roses.  Sophy 
shall  live  with  us,  and  be  the  companion  of  all 
our  enjoyments.  Glencoe,  too,  shall  no  more 
be  the  solitary  being  that  he  now  appears. 
He  shall  have  a  home  with  us.  He  shall  have 
his  study,  where,  when  he  pleases,  he  may  shut 
himself  up  from  the  world,  and  bury  himself 
in  his  own  reflections.  His  retreat  shall  be 
held  sacred  ;  no  one  shall  intrude  there ;  no 
one  but  myself,  who  will  visit  him  now  and 
then,  in  his  seclusion,  where  we  v>iil  devise 
grand  schemes  together  for  the  improvement  of 
mankind.  How  delightfully  our  days  will  pass, 
in  a  round  of  rational  pleasures  and  elegant 
enjoyments  !  Sometimes  we  will  have  music  ; 
sometimes  we  will  read ;  sometimes  we  will  wan- 
der through  the  flower-garden,  when  I  will  smile 
with  complacency  on  every  flower  my  wife  has 
planted ;  while  in  the  long  winter  evenings, 
the  ladies  will  sit  at  their  work  and  listen,  with 
hushed  attention,  to  Glencoe  and  myself,  as  we 
discuss  the  abstruse  doctrines  of  metaphysics. ' ' 
From  this  delectable  reverie  I  was  startled 


Aountjoi? 


321 


no  more 


by  my  father's  slapping  me  on  the  shoulder : 
"  What  possesses  the  lad  ?"  cried  he  ;  '*  here 
have  I  been  speaking  to  you  half  a  dozen  times, 
without  receiving  an  answer." 

"Pardon  me,  sir,"  replied  I;  "I  was  so 
completely  lost  in  thought,  that  I  did  not  hear 
you." 

"Lost  in  thought!  And  pray  what  were 
you  thinking  of?  Some  of  your  philosophy,  I 
suppose. '  * 

"Upon  my  word,"  said  my  sister  Charlotte, 
with  an  arch  laugh,  "  I  suspect  Harry  's  in  love 
again." 

"And  if  I  were  in  love,  Charlotte,"  said  I, 
somewhat  nettled,  and  recollecting  Glencoe's 
enthusiastic  eulogy  of  the  passion,  "  if  I  were 
in  love,  is  that  a  matter  of  jest  and  laughter? 
Is  the  tenderest  and  most  fervid  affection  that 
can  animate  the  human  breast  to  be  made  a 
matter  of  cold-hearted  ridicule  ?  ' ' 

My  sister  colored.  "  Certainly  not,  brother  ! 
nor  did  I  mean  to  make  it  so,  nor  to  say  any- 
thing that  should  wound  your  feelings.  Had 
I  really  suspected  that  you  had  formed  some 
genuine  attachment,  it  would  have  been  sacred 
in  my  eyes;  but — ^but,"  said  she,  smiling,  as 
if  at  some  whimsical  recollection,  "I  thought 
that  you — you  might  be  indulging  in  another 
little  freak  of  the  imagination." 


ill; 


'Iv1| 


.^ti* 


•:  II 


VOL.  II. — ai 


ft 


■:'    il  \ 


I 


ill  ■  i 


ri 


333 


/i5ountioi? 


"  I  '11  wager  any  money,"  cried  my  father, 
"  he  has  fallen  in  love  again  v,  ith  some  old 
lady  at  a  window  ! ' ' 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  cried  my  dear  sister  Sophy,  with 
the  most  gracious  warmth  ;  "she  is  young  and 
beautiful." 

"From  what  I  unvlerstand,"  said  Glencoe, 
rousing  himself,"  she  must  be  lovely  in  mind 
as  in  person." 

I  found  my  friends  were  getting  me  into  a 
fine  scrape.  I  began  to  perspire  at  every  pore, 
and  felt  my  ears  tingle. 

"  Well,  but,"  cried  my  father,  "  who  is  she? 
— what  is  she?  I^et  us  hear  something  about 
her." 

This  w^as  no  time  to  explain  so  delicate  a 
matter.  I  caught  up  my  hat  and  vanished 
out  of  the  house. 

The  moment  I  was  in  the  open  air,  and  alone, 
my  heart  upbraided  me.  Was  this  respectful 
treatment  to  my  father — to  suck  a  father  too — 
who  had  always  regarded  me  as  the  pride  of 
his  age — the  staflf  of  his  hopes  ?  It  is  true,  he 
was  apt  sometimes,  to  laugh  at  my  enthusi- 
astic flights,  and  did  not  treat  my  philosophy 
with  due  respect;  but  when  had  he  ever 
thwarted  a  wish  of  my  heart  ?  Was  I  then  to 
act  with  reserve  toward  him,  in  a  matter  which 
might  affect  the  whole  current  of  my  future 


/ISountJOjS 


m 


father, 
nie  old 

ly,  with 
mg  and 

>lencoe, 
in  mind 

e  into  a 
jry  pore, 

3  is  she  ? 
ig  about 

elicate  a 
vanished 

tid  alone, 
espectful 
er  too — 
pride  of 
true,  he 
enthusi- 
lilosophy 
he    ever 
[  then  to 
er  which 
ly  future 


life?  "  I  have dotic  wrong,"  thought  I  ;  "but 
it  is  not  too  late  to  remedy  it.  I  will  hasten 
back,  and  open  my  whole  heart  to  my  father  !  " 

I  returned  accordingly,  and  was  just  on  the 
point  of  entering  the  house,  with  my  heart 
full  of  filial  piety,  and  a  contrite  speech  upon 
my  lips,  when  I  heard  a  burst  of  obstreperous 
laughter  from  my  father,  and  a  loud  titter  from 
my  two  elder  sisters. 

"A  footstep?"  shouted  he,  as  soon  as  he 
could  recover  himself;  "in  love  with  a  foot- 
step !  why,  this  beats  the  old  lady  at  the  win- 
dow ! ' '  And  then  there  was  another  appalling 
burst  of  laughter.  Had  it  been  a  clap  of  thun- 
der, it  could  hardly  have  astounded  me  more 
completely.  Sophy,  in  the  simplicity  of  her 
heart,  had  told  all,  and  had  set  my  father's 
risible  propensities  in  full  action. 

Never  was  poor  mortal  so  thoroughly  crest- 
fallen as  myself.  The  whole  delusion  was  at 
an  end.  I  drew  off  silently  from  the  house, 
shrinking  smaller  and  smaller  at  every  fresh 
peal  of  laughter  ;  and,  wandering  about  until 
the  family  had  retired,  stole  quietly  to  my  bed. 
Scarce  any  sleep,  however,  visited  my  eyes  that 
night.  I  lay  overwhelmed  with  mortification, 
and  meditating  how  I  might  meet  the  family 
in  the  morning.  The  idea  of  ridicule  was 
always  intolerable  to  me  :  but  to  endure  it  on  a 


t 


i 


tfi 


t'l 


.f 


'4*1 


;  S 


324 


AountjO)2 


I,-. 


; 


!ti'* 


subject  by  which  my  feelings  had  been  so  much 
excited,  seemed  worse  than  death.  I  almost 
determined,  at  one  time,  to  get  up,  saddle  my 
horse,  and  ride  off,  I  knew  not  whither. 

At*  length  I  came  to  a  resolution.  Before 
going  down  to  breakfast  I  sent  for  Sophy,  and 
employed  her  as  an  ambassador  to  treat  for- 
mally in  the  matter.  I  insisted  that  the  sub- 
ject should  be  buried  in  oblivion  ;  otherwise 
I  would  not  show  my  face  at  table.  It  was 
readily  agreed  to ;  for  not  one  of  the  family 
would  have  given  me  pain  for  the  world.  They 
faithfully  kept  their  promise.  Not  a  word  was 
said  of  the  matter  ;  but  there  were  wry  faces, 
and  suppressed  titters,  that  went  to  my  soul ; 
and  whenever  my  father  looked  me  in  the  face, 
it  was  with  such  a  tragic-comical  leer — such 
an  attempt  to  pull  down  a  serious  brow  upon  a 
whimsical  mouth — that  I  had  a  thousand  times 
rather  he  had  laughed  outright. 

For  a  day  or  two  after  the  mortifying  occur- 
rence mentioned,  I  kept  as  much  as  possible 
out  of  the  way  of  the  family,  and  wandered 
about  the  fields  and  woods  by  myself.  I  was 
sadly  out  of  tune  :  my  feelings  were  all  jarred 
and  unstrung.  The  birds  sang  from  every 
grove,  but  I  took  no  pleasure  in  their  melody  ; 
and  the  fiow^^s  of  the  field  bloomed  unheeded 
around  me.     To  be  crossed  in  love  is  bad 


Aountjoi? 


325 


enough  ;  but  then  one  can  fly  to  poetry  for 
relief,  and  turn  one's  woes  to  account  in  soul- 
subduing  stanzas.  But  to  have  one's  whole 
passion,  object  and  all,  annihilated,  dispelled, 
proved  to  be  such  stuff  as  dreams  are  made  of, 
or,  worse  than  all,  to  be  turned  into  a  proverb 
and  a  jest — what  cciisolation  is  there  in  such  a 
case? 

I  avoided  the  fatal  brook  where  I  had  seen 
the  footstep.  My  favorite  resort  was  now  the 
banks  of  the  Hudson,  where  I  sat  upon  the 
rucks  and  mused  upon  the  current  that  dim- 
pled by,  or  the  waves  that  laved  the  shore  ;  or 
watched  the  bright  mutations  of  the  clouds, 
and  the  shifting  lights  and  shadows  of  the 
distant  mountain.  By  degrees  a  returning 
serenity  stole  over  my  feelings ;  and  a  sigh 
now  and  then,  gentle  and  easy,  and  unattended 
by  pain,  showed  that  my  heart  was  recovering 
its  susceptibility. 

As  I  was  sitting  in  this  musing  mood,  my 
eye  became  gradually  fixed  upon  an  object 
that  was  borne  along  by  the  tide.  It  proved 
to  be  a  little  pinnace,  beautifully  modelled,  and 
gayly  painted  and  decorated.  It  was  an  un- 
usual sight  in  this  neighborhood,  which  was 
rather  lonely ;  indeed  it  was  rare  to  see  any 
pleasure  barks  in  this  part  of  the  river.  As  it 
drew  nearer,  I  perceived  that  there  was  no  one 


:^l 


iVJ 


3i  ' 


'J 

i      s 


'J 


!     ff 


326 


Aountjoi? 


on  board :  it  had  apparently  drifted  from  its 
anchorage.  There  was  not  a  breath  of  air  ; 
the  little  bark  came  floating  along  on  the  glassy 
stream,  wheeling  about  with  the  eddies.  At 
length  it  ran  aground,  almost  at  the  foot  of  the 
rock  on  which  I  was  seated.  I  descended  to 
the  margin  of  the  river,  and  drawing  the  bark 
to  shore,  admired  its  light  and  elegant  propor- 
tions, and  taste  with  which  it  was  fitted  up. 
The  benches  were  covered  with  cushions,  and 
its  long  streamer  was  of  silk.  On  one  of  the 
cushions  lay  a  lady's  glove,  of  delicate  size 
and  shape,  with  beautifully  tapered  fingers.  I 
instantly  seized  it  and  thrust  it  in  my  bosom  : 
it  seemed  a  match  for  the  fairy  footstep  that 
had  so  fascinated  me. 

In  a  moment  all  the  romance  of  my  bosom 
was  again  in  a  glow.  Here  was  one  of  the 
very  incidents  of  fairy  tale ;  a  bark  sent  by 
some  invisible  power,  some  good  genius,  or 
benevolent  fairy,  to  waft  me  to  some  delectable 
adventure.  I  recollected  something  of  an  en- 
chanted bark,  drawn  by  white  swans,  that  con- 
veyed a  knight  down  the  current  of  the  Rhine, 
on  some  enterprise  connected  with  love  and 
beauty.  The  glove,  too,  showed  that  there 
was  a  lady  fair  concerned  in  the  present  ad- 
venture. It  might  be  a  gauntlet  of  defiance, 
to  dare  me  to  the  enterprise. 


Aountjoi? 


387 


rom  its 
of  air  ; 
e  glassy 
es.     At 
)t  of  the 
inded  to 
he  bark 
propor- 
tted  up. 
ons,  and 
le  of  the 
:ate  size 
gers.     I 
bosom : 
itep  that 

y  bosom 
Q  of  the 
sent  by 
jnius,   or 
electable 
)f  an  en- 
that  con- 
le  Rhine, 
ove  and 
at   there 
esent  ad- 
defiance, 


In  the  spirit  of  romance,  and  the  whim  of 
the  moment,  I  sprang  on  board,  hoisted  the 
light  sail,  and  pushed  from  shore.  As  if 
breathed  by  some  presiding  power,  a  light 
breeze  at  that  moment  sprang  up,  swelled  out 
the  sail,  and  dallied  with  the  silken  streamer. 
For  a  time  I  glided  along  under  steep  umbra- 
geous banks,  or  across  deep  sequestered  bays  ; 
and  then  stood  out  over  a  wide  expansion  of 
the  river,  toward  a  high  rocky  promontory. 
It  was  a  lovely  evening  :  the  sun  was  setting 
in  a  congregation  of  clouds  that  threw  the 
whole  heavens  in  a  glow,  and  were  reflected  in 
the  river.  I  delighted  myself  with  all  kinds 
of  fantastic  fancies,  as  to  what  enchanted  island 
or  mystic  bower,  or  necromantic  palace.  I  was 
to  be  conveyed  by  the  fairy  bark. 

In  the  revel  of  my  fancy,  I  had  not  noticed 
that  the  gorgeous  congregation  of  clouds 
which  had  so  much  delighted  me,  was,  in  fact, 
a  gathering  thunder-gust.  I  perceived  the 
truth  too  late.  The  clouds  came  hurrying  on, 
darkening  as  they  advanced.  The  whole  face 
of  Nature  was  suddenly  changed,  and  assumed 
that  baleful  and  livid  tint  predictive  of  a  storm. 
I  tried  to  gain  the  shore ;  but,  before  I  could 
reach  it,  a  blast  of  wind  struck  the  water,  and 
lashed  it  at  once  into  foam.  The  next  moment 
it  overtook  the  boat.     Alas  !  I  was  nothing  of 


t-  i 


in 


fii 


J ' 


328 


Aountjoi? 


a  sailor  ;  and  my  protecting  fairy  forsook  me 
in  the  moment  of  peril.  I  endeavored  to  lower 
the  sail,  but  in  so  doing  I  had  to  quit  the  helm  ; 
the  bark  was  overturned  in  an  instant,  and  I 
was  thrown  into  the  water.  I  endeavored  to 
nling  to  the  wreck,  but  missed  my  hold  :  being 
a  poor  swimmer,  I  soon  found  myself  sinking, 
but  grasped  a  light  oar  that  was  floating  by 
me.  It  was  not  sufficient  for  my  support :  I 
again  sank  beneath  the  surface  ;  there  was  a 
rushing  and  bubbling  sound  in  my  ears,  and 
all  sense  forsook  me. 

How  long  I  remained  insensible,  I  know  not. 
I  had  a  confused  notion  of  being  moved  and 
tossed  about,  and  of  hearing  strange  beings 
and  strange  voices  around  me ;  but  all  was 
like  a  hideous  dream.  When  I  at  length  re- 
covered full  consciousness  and  perception,  I 
found  myself  in  bed,  in  a  spacious  chamber, 
furnished  with  more  taste  than  I  had  been 
accustomed  to.  The  bright  rays  of  a  morning 
sun  were  intercepted  by  curtains  of  a  delicate 
rose  color,  that  gave  a  soft,  voluptuous  tinge 
to  every  object.  Not  far  from  my  bed,  on  a 
classic  tripod,  was  a  basket  of  beautiful  exotic 
flowers,  breathing  the  sweetest  fragrance. 
* '  Where  ami?  How  came  I  here  ? ' ' 
I  tasked  my  mind  to  catch  at  some  previous 
event,  from  which  I  might  trace  up  the  thread 


AountjoiS 


3*9 


of  existence  to  the  present  moment.  By 
degrees  I  called  to  mind  the  fairy  pinnace,  my 
daring  embarkation,  my  adventurous  voyage, 
and  my  disastrous  shipwreck.  Beyond  that 
all  was  chaos.  How  came  I  here  ?  What  un- 
known region  had  I  landed  upon  ?  The  people 
that  inhabited  it  must  be  gentle  and  amiable, 
and  of  elegant  tastes,  for  they  loved  downy 
beds,  fragrant  flowers,  and  rose-colored  cur- 
tains. 

While  I  lay  thus  musing,  the  tones  of  a  harp 
reached  my  ear.  Presently  they  were  accom- 
panied by  a  female  voice.  It  came  from  the 
room  below  ;  but  in  the  profound  stillness  cf 
my  chamber  not  a  modulation  was  lost.  My 
sisters  were  all  considered  good  musicians,  and 
sang  very  tolerably  ;  but  I  had  never  heard  a 
voice  like  this.  There  was  no  attempt  at 
difl&cult  execution,  or  striking  effect ;  but  there 
were  exquisite  inflexions,  and  tender  turns, 
which  art  could  not  reach.  Nothing  but  feel- 
ing and  sentiment  could  produce  them.  It  was 
soul  breathed  forth  in  sound.  I  was  always 
alive  to  the  influence  of  music ;  indeed  I  was 
susceptible  of  voluptuous  influences  of  every 
kind, — sounds,  colors,  shapes,  and  fragrant 
odors.     I  was  the  very  slave  of  sensation. 

I  lay  mute  and  breathless,  and  drank  in 
every  note  of  this  siren   strain.     It    thrilled 


r 


4 

I 

:        tl 

I 


■:.iii| 


ill , 


4     f 


330 


Aotintjoe 


li  7^-  t 

If  :. 


I'; 


if?!     ' 


it  ■  • 


I 


through  my  whole  frame,  and  filled  my  soul 
with  melody  and  love.  I  pictured  to  myself, 
with  curious  logic,  the  form  of  the  unseen 
musician.  Such  melodious  sounds  and  ex- 
quisite inflexions  could  only  be  produced  by 
organs  of  the  most  delicate  flexibility.  Such 
organs  do  not  belong  to  coarse,  vulgar  forms  ; 
they  are  the  harmonious  results  of  fair  propor- 
tions and  admirable  symmetry.  A  being  so 
organized  must  be  lovely. 

Again  my  busy  imagination  was  at  work. 
I  called  to  mind  the  Arabian  story  of  a  prince, 
borne  away  during  sleep  by  a  good  genius,  to 
the  distant  abode  of  a  princess  of  ravishing 
beauty.  I  do  not  pretend  to  say  that  I  be- 
lieved in  having  experienced  a  similar  trans- 
portation ;  but  it  was  my  inveterate  habit 
to  cheat  myself  with  fancies  of  the  kind,  and 
to  give  the  tinge  of  illusion  to  surrounding 
realities. 

The  witching  sound  had  ceased,  but  its 
vibrations  still  played  round  my  heart,  and 
filled  it  with  a  tumult  of  soft  emotions.  At 
this  moment  a  self-upbraiding  pang  shot 
through  my  bosom.  * '  Ah,  recreant !  "  a  voice 
seemed  to  exclaim,  **  is  this  the  vStability  of 
thine  affection;:  ?  What !  hast  thou  so  soon 
forgotten  the  nymph  of  the  fountain  ?  Has  one 
song,  idly  piped  in  thine  ear,  been  sufficient  to 


Aountjoi? 


331 


ny  soul 
myself, 

unseen 
ind  ex- 
iced  by 
.  Such 
•  forms ; 

prop3r- 
)eing  so 

it  work. 
I  prince, 
enius,  to 
avishing 
at  I  be- 
ir  trans- 
te  habit 
ind,  and 
ounding 


chann  away    the    cherished   tenderness  of  a 
whole  summer  ?  '  * 

The  wise  may  smile  ;  but  I  am  in  a  confiding 
mood,  and  must  confess  my  weakness.  I  felt 
a  degree  of  compunction  at  tliis  sudden  in- 
fidelity, yet  I  could  not  resist  the  power  of 
present  fascination.  My  peace  of  mind  was 
destroyed  by  conflicting  claims.  The  nymph 
of  the  fountain  came  over  my  memory,  with 
all  the  associations  of  fairy  footsteps,  shady 
groves,  soft  echoes,  and  wild  streamlets ;  but 
this  new  passion  was  produced  by  a  strain  of 
soul-subduing  melody,  still  lingering  in  my  ear, 
aided  by  a  downy  bed,  fragrant  flowers,  and 
rose-colored  curtains.  **  Unhappy  youth  ! ' ' 
sighed  I  to  myself,  "  distracted  by  such  rival 
passions,  and  the  empire  of  thy  heart  thus 
violently  contested  by  the  sound  of  a  voice  and 
the  print  of  a  footstep  ! ' ' 

I  had  not  remained  long  in  this  mood,  when 
I  heard  the  door  of  the  room  gently  opened. 
I  turned  my  head  to  see  what  inhabitant  of 
this  enchanted  palace  should  appear ;  whether 
page  in  green,  hideous  dwarf,  or  haggard  fairy. . 
It  was  my  own  man  Scipio.  He  advanced 
with  cautious  step,  and  was  delighted,  as  he 
said,  to  find  me  so  much  myself  again.  My 
first  questions  were  as  to  where  I  was,  and  how 
I  came  there  ?    Scipio  told  me  a  long  story  of 


m 


i«^i 


M 


333 


Aountjoe 


if 


m 


'■hi     ! 


lei 


n  f 


his  having  been  fishing  in  a  canoe,  at  the  time 
of  ray  hare-brained  cruise  ;  of  his  noticing  the 
gathering  squall,  and  my  impending  danger  ; 
of  his  hastening  to  join  me,  but  arriving  just 
in  time  to  snatch  me  from  a  watery  grave  ;  of 
the  great  difficulty  in  restoring  me  to  anima- 
tion ;  and  of  my  being  subsequently  conveyed, 
in  a  state  of  insensibility,  to  this  mansion. 

"But  where  am   I?"     was  the  reiterated 
demand. 

"  In  the  house  of  Mr.  Somerville.*' 
'  *  Somervil «e — Somerville  !  "  I  recollected 
to  have  heard  that  a  gentleman  of  that  name 
had  recently  taken  up  his  residence  at  some 
distance  from  my  father's  abode,  on  the  op- 
posite side  of  the  Hudson.  He  was  commonly 
known  by  the  name  of  **  French  Somenalle," 
from  having  passed  part  of  his  early  life  in 
France,  and  from  his  exhibiting  traces  of 
French  taste  in  his  mode  of  living  and  the 
arrangements  of  his  house.  In  fact,  it  was  in 
his  pleasure-boat,  which  had  got  adrift,  that  I 
had  made  my  fanciful  and  disastrous  cruise. 
All  this  was  simple,  straightforward  matter  of 
iCact,  and  threatened  to  demolish  all  the  cobweb 
romance  I  had  been  spinning,  when  fortunately 
I  again  heard  the  tinkling  of  a  harp.  I  raised 
myself  in  bed,  and  listened. 

Scipio,"  said  I,  with  some  little  hesitation, 


If 


Aountjos 


333 


(t 


It 


"I  heard  some  one  singing  just  now.     Who 
was  it  ? " 

Oh,  that  was  Miss  Julia. 
Julia  !   Julia  !    Delightful !    what  a  name  ! 
And,  Scipio — is  she — is  she  pretty  ?  " 

Scipio  grinned  from  ear  to  ear.  "Except 
Miss  Sophy,  she  was  the  most  beautiful  young 
lady  he  had  ever  seen." 

I  should  observe,  that  my  sister  Sophia  was 
considered  by  all  the  servants  a  paragon  of 
perfection. 

Scipio  now  offered  to  remove  the  basket  of 
flowers ;  he  was  afraid  their  odor  might  be 
too  powerful ;  but  Miss  Julia  had  given  them 
that  morning  to  be  placed  in  my  room. 

These  flowers,  then,  had  been  gathered  by 
the  fairy  fingers  of  my  unseen  beauty  :  that 
sweet  breath,  which  had  filled  my  ear  with 
melody,  had  passed  over  them.  I  made  Scipio 
hand  them  to  me,  culled  several  of  the  most 
delicate,  and  laid  them  on  my  bosom. 

Mr.  Somerville  paid  me  a  visit  not  long  after- 
ward. He  was  an  interesting  study  for  me,  for 
he  was  the  father  of  my  unseen  beauty,  and 
probably  resembled  her.  I  scanned  him  closely. 
He  was  a  tall  and  elegant  man,  with  an  open, 
aflable  manner,  and  an  erect  and  graceful  car- 
riage. His  eyes  were  bluish-gray,  and,  though 
not  dark,  yet  at  times  were  sparkling  and  ex- 


Riitl 


I 


s 

'I:    ii. 


■ '  I- 


334 


AOUlltJOC 


pressivc.  His  hair  was  dressed  and  powdered 
and  being  lightly  combed  up  from  his  forehead, 
added  to  the  loftiness  of  his  aspect.  He  was 
fluent  in  discourse,  but  his  conversation  had 
the  quiet  tone  of  polished  society,  without  any 
of  those  bold  flights  of  thought,  and  picturings 
of  fancy,  which  I  so  much  admired. 

My  imagination  was  a  little  puzzled  at  first, 
to  make  out  of  this  assemblage  of  personal  and 
mental  qualities,  a  picture  that  should  harmon- 
ize with  my  previous  idea  of  the  fair  unseen. 
By  dint,  however,  of  selecting  what  it  liked, 
and  rejecting  what  it  did  not  like,  and  giving 
a  touch  here  and  a  touch  there,  it  soon  finished 
out  a  satisfactory  portrait. 

"Julia  must  be  tall,"  thought  I,  "and  of 
equisite  ^race  and  dignity.  She  is  not  quite 
so  courtly  as  her  father,  for  she  has  been 
brought  up  in  the  retirement  of  the  country. 
Neither  is  she  of  such  vivacious  deportment ; 
for  the  tones  of  her  voice  are  soft  and  plaintive, 
and  she  loves  pathetic  music.  She  is  rather 
pensive — yet  not  too  pensive ;  just  what  is 
called  interesting.  Her  eyes  are  like  her 
father's,  except  that  they  are  of  a  purer  blue, 
and  more  tender  and  languishing.  She  has 
light  hair — not  exactly  flaxen,  for  I  do  not  like 
flaxen  hair,  but  between  that  and  auburn. 
In   a    word,   she   is   a    tall,   elegant,   impos- 


AountJoi2 


33$ 


wdered 
)rebea(l, 
He  was 
ion  had 
lout  any 
icturings 

I  at  first, 
,onal  and 
harmon- 
•  unseen, 
it  liked, 
id  giving 
n  finished 

"and  of 
not  quite 
has  been 

country. 
x)rtment ; 
plaintive, 

is  rather 
what  is 

like  her 
urer  blue, 
She  has 
io  not  hke 
i  auburn, 
it,   impos- 


ing, languishing,  blue-eyed,  romantic  looking 
beauty."  And  having  thus  finished  her  pict- 
ure, I  felt  ten  times  more  in  love  with  her 
than  ever. 

I  felt  so  much  recovered,  that  I  would  at 
once  have  left  my  room,  but  Mr.  Somerville 
objected  to  it.  He  had  sent  early  word  to  my 
family  of  my  safety  ;  and  my  father  arrived  in 
the  course  of  the  morning.  He  was  shocked 
at  learning  the  risk  I  had  run,  but  rejoiced  to 
find  me  so  much  restored,  and  was  warm  in 
his  thanks  to  Mr.  Somerville  for  his  kindness. 
The  other  only  required,  in  return,  that  I  might 
remain  two  or  three  days  as  his  guest,  to  give 
time  for  my  recovery,  and  for  our  forming  a 
closer  acquaintance,  a  request  which  my  father 
readily  granted.  Scipio  accordingly  accom- 
panied my  father  home,  and  returned  with  a 
supply  of  clothes,  and  with  affectionate  letters 
from  my  mother  and  sisters. 

The  next  morning,  aided  by  Scipio,  I  made 
my  toilet  with  rather  more  care  than  usual, 
and  descended  the  stairs  with  some  trepidation, 
eager  to  see  the  original  of  the  portrait  which 
had  been  so  completely  pictured  in  my  im- 
agination. 

On  entering  the  parlor,  I  found  it  deserted, 
lyike  the  rest  of  the  house,  it  was  furnished  in 
a  foreign  style.     The  curtains  were  of  French 


'  i 


^^li)  I 


il 


33(i 


/iSountjoe 


11 ... 


'ir:  - 


silk  ;  there  were  Grecian  couches,  marble 
tables,  pier-glasses,  and  chandeliers.  What 
chiefly  attracted  my  eye,  were  documents  of 
female  taste  that  I  saw  around  me, — a  piano 
with  an  ample  stock  of  Italian  music ;  a  book 
of  poetry  lying  on  the  sofa  ;  a  vase  of  fresh 
flowers  on  a  table,  and  a  portfolio  open  with  a 
skilful  and  half  finished  sketch  of  them.  In 
the  window  was  a  Canary  bird,  in  a  gilt  cage  ; 
and  near  by,  the  harp  that  had  been  in  Julia's 
arms.  Happy  harp  !  But  where  was  the  being 
that  reigned  in  this  little  empire  of  delicacies? 
— that  breathed  poetry  and  song,  and  dwelt 
among  birds  and  flowers,  and  rose-colored  cur- 
tains? , 

Suddenly  I  heard  the  hall-door  fly  open,  the 
quick  pattering  of  light  steps,  a  wild,  capri- 
cious strain  of  music,  and  the  shrill  barking  of 
a  dog.  A  light  frolic  nymph  of  fifteen  came 
tripping  into  the  room,  playing  on  a  flageolet, 
with  a  little  spaniel  ramping  after  her.  Her 
gypsy  hat  had  fallen  back  upon  her  shoulders ; 
a  profusion  of  glossy  brown  hair  was  blown  in 
rich  ringlets  about  her  face,  which  beamed 
through  them  with  the  brightness  of  smiles 
and  dimples. 

At  sight  of  me  she  stopped  short,  in  the  most 
beautiful  confusion,  stammered  out  a  word  or 
two  about  looking  for  her  father,  glided  out  of 


AountlO)^ 


the  d<K)r,  and  I  heard  her  houtidiiig  up  the 
staircase,  like  a  frightened  fawn,  with  the  httle 
dog  barking  after  her. 

When  Miss  Somerville  returned  to  the  parlor, 
she  was  quite  a  different  being.  She  entered, 
stealing  along  by  her  mother's  side,  with  noise- 
less step  and  sweet  timidity  ;  her  hair  was  pret- 
tily adjusted,  and  a  soft  blush  mantled  on  her 
damask  cheek.  Mr.  Somerville  accompanied 
the  ladies,  and  introduced  me  regularly  to  them. 
There  were  many  kind  inquiries,  and  much 
sympathy  expressed  on  the  subject  of  my  nau- 
tical accident,  and  some  remarks  upon  the  wild 
scenery  of  the  neighborhood,  with  which  the 
ladies  seemed  perfectly  acquainted. 

*'You  must  know,"  said  Mr.  Somerville, 
"  that  we  are  great  navigators,  and  delight  in 
exploring  every  nook  and  corner  of  the  river. 
My  daughter,  too,  is  a  great  hunter  of  the 
picturesque,  and  transfers  every  rock  and  glen 
to  her  portfolio.  By  the  way,  my  dear,  show 
Mr.  Mountjoy  that  pretty  scene  you  have  lately 
sketched.'*  Julia  complied,  blushing,  and  drew 
from  her  portfolio  a  colored  sketch.  I  almost 
started  at  the  sight.  It  was  my  favorite  brook. 
A  sudden  thought  darted  across  my  mind.  I 
glanced  down  my  eye,  and  beheld  the  divinest 
little  foot  in  the  world.  Oh,  blissful  convic- 
tion !    The  struggle  of  my  affections  was  at  an 


II 


VOL.  II. — 22 


1'''! 


; 


mU 


■  1 


m  ^'' 


5    t 


338 


Aountjos 


end.  The  voice  and  the  footstep  were  no  longer 
at  variance.  Julia  Somerville  was  the  nymph 
of  the  fountain  ! 

What  conversation  passed  during  breakfast 
I  do  not  recollect,  and  hardly  was  conscious  of 
at  the  time,  for  my  thoughts  were  in  complete 
confusion.  I  wished  to  gaze  on  Miss  Somer- 
ville, but  did  not  dare.  Once,  indeed,  I  ven- 
tured a  glance.  She  was  at  that  moment 
darting  a  similar  one  from  under  a  covert  of 
ringlets.  Our  eyes  seemed  shocked  by  the 
rencontre,  and  fell ;  hers  through  the  natural 
modesty  of  her  sex,  mine  through  a  bashful- 
ness  produced  by  the  previous  workings  of  my 
imagination.  That  glance,  however,  went  like 
a  sunbeam  to  my  heart. 

A  convenient  mirror  favored  my  diffidence, 
and  gave  me  the  reflection  of  Miss  Somerville' s 
form.  It  is  true  it  only  presented  the  back  of 
her  head,  but  she  had  the  merit  of  an  ancient 
statue ;  contemplate  her  from  any  point  of  view, 
she  was  beautiful.  And  yet  she  was  totally 
different  from  everything  I  had  before  conceived 
of  beauty.  She  was  not  the  serene,  meditative 
maid  that  I  had  pictured  the  nymph  of  the 
fountain  ;  nor  the  tall,  soft,  languishing,  blue- 
eyed,  dignified  being  that  I  had  fancied  the 
minstrel  of  the  harp.  There  was  nothing  of 
dignity  about  her  ;  she  was  girlish  in  her  rfp- 


Aountjoi? 


339 


lo  longer 
e  nymph 

breakfast 
scious  of 
complete 
;s  Somer- 
id,  I  ven- 

moment 
covert  of 
d  by  the 
le  natural 
I  bashful- 
ngs  of  my 

went  like 

diffidence, 
raerville's 
e  back  of 
m  ancient 
t  of  view, 
|as  totally 
conceived 
editAtive 
.h  of  the 
ng,  blue- 
Incied  the 
•thing  of 
n  her  sfp- 


pearance,  and  scarcely  of  the  middle  size  ;  but 
then  there  was  the  tenderness  of  budding 
youth  ;  the  sweetness  of  the  half-blown  rose, 
when  not  a  tint  or  perfume  has  been  withered 
or  exhaled  ;  there  were  smiles  and  dimples, 
and  all  the  soft  witcheries  of  ever  varying  ex- 
pression. I  wondered  that  I  could  ever  have 
admired  any  other  style  of  beauty. 

After  breakfast  Mr.  Somerville  departed  to 
attend  to  the  concerns  of  his  estate,  and  gave 
me  in  charge  of  the  ladies.  Mrs.  Somerville 
also  was  called  away  by  household  careS,  and 
I  was  left  alone  with  Julia  !  Here  then  was 
the  situation  which  of  all  others  I  had  most 
coveted.  I  was  in  the  presence  of  the  lovely 
being  that  had  so  long  been  the  desire  of  my 
heart.  We  were  alone  ;  propitious  opportunity 
for  a  lover  !  Did  I  seize  upon  it  ?  Did  I  break 
out  in  one  of  my  accustomed  rhapsodies  ?  No 
such  thing  !  Never  was  being  more  awkwardly 
embarrassed. 

"  What  can  be  the  cause  of  this?  '*  thought 
I.  "Surely  I  cannot  stand  in  awe  of  this 
young  girl.  I  am  of  course  her  superior  in 
intellect,  and  am  never  embarrassed  in  com- 
pany with  my  tutor,  notwithstanding  all  his 
wisdom." 

It  was  passing  strange.  I  felt  that  if  she 
were  an  old  woman,  I  should  be  quite  at  my 


*  i<: 


1   11 


i 


■If 


I  3 1 


■*in'i 


fc4 


i 


i: 


1^ 


i-i 


l-l 


%-' 


Mi     . 


r.T 


1 1 


I J 
1 1 


340 


AountjoiS 


ease  ;  if  she  were  even  an  ugly  woman,  I  should 
make  out  very  well  ;  it  was  her  beauty  that 
overpowered  me.  How  little  do  lovely  women 
know  what  awful  beings  they  are,  in  the  eyes 
of  inexperienced  youth  !  Young  men  brought 
up  in  the  fashionable  circles  of  our  cities  will 
smile  at  all  this.  Accustomed  to  mingle  in- 
cessantly in  female  society,  and  to  have  the 
romance  of  the  heart  deadened  by  a  thousand 
frivolous  flirtations,  women  are  nothing  but 
women  in  their  eyes  ;  but  to  a  susceptible 
youth  like  myself,  brought  up  in  the  country, 
they  are  perfect  divinities. 

Miss  Somerville  was  at  first  a  little  embar- 
rassed herself ;  but,  somehow  or  other,  women 
have  a  natural  adroitness  in  recovering  their 
self-possession  ;  they  are  more  alert  in  their 
minds  and  graceful  in  their  manners.  Besides, 
I  was  but  an  ordinary  personage  in  Miss  Somer- 
ville's  eyes ;  she  was  not  under  the  influence 
of  such  a  singular  course  of  imaginings  as  had 
surrounded  her,  in  my  eyes,  with  the  illusions 
of  romance.  Perhaps,  too,  she  saw  the  con- 
fusion in  the  opposite  camp,  and  gained  cour- 
age from  the  discovery.  At  any  rate,  she  was 
the  flrst  to  take  the  field. 

Her  conversation,  however,  was  only  on 
commonplace  topics,  and  in  an  easy,  well-bred 
style.     I  endeavored  to  respond  in  the  same 


■•■*»« 


Aountjot 


34« 


manner ;  but  I  was  strangely  incompetent  to 
the  task.  My  ideas  were  frozen  up  ;  even 
words  seemed  to  fail  me.  I  was  excessively 
vexed  at  myself,  for  I  wished  to  be  uncom- 
monly elegant.  I  tried  two  or  three  times 
to  turn  a  pretty  thought,  or  to  utter  a  fine 
sentiment ;  but  it  would  come  forth  so  trite,  so 
forced,  so  mawkish,  that  I  was  ashamed  of  it. 
My  very  voice  sounded  discordantly,  though 
I  sought  to  modulate  it  into  the  softest  tones. 
••  The  truth  is,"  thought  I  to  myself,  "  I  can- 
not bring  my  mind  down  to  the  small  talk 
necessan'  for  young  girls ;  it  is  too  masculine 
and  rob  .  ^br  the  mincing  measure  of  parlor 
gossip.  1  am  a  philosopher  ;  and  that  accounts 
for  it." 

The  entrance  of  Mrs.  Somerville  at  length 
gave  me  relief.  I  at  once  breathed  freely,  and 
felt  a  vast  deal  of  confidence  come  over  me. 
"This  is  strange,"  thought  I,  "that  the  ap- 
pearance of  another  woman  should  revive  my 
courage ;  that  I  should  be  a  better  match  for 
two  women  than  one.  However,  since  it  is  so, 
I  will  take  advantage  of  the  circumstance,  and 
let  this  young  lady  see  that  I  am  not  so  great 
a  simpleton  as  she  probably  thinks  me." 

I  accordingly  took  up  the  book  of  poetry 
which  lay  upon  the  sofa.  It  was  Milton's 
Paradise  Lost,     Nothing  could  have  been  more 


i : ...  *! 

I   ' 


iii 


nfc.iiti 


!•'    I 


j'i! ; 


Wi 


in  I 


1  !    i 


I 


Ik. 

t  i 


•34a 


iOSountioc 


fortunate  ;  it  afforded  a  fine  scope  for  my  fa- 
vorite vein  of  grandiloquence,  I  went  largely 
into  a  discussion  of  its  merits,  or  rather  an  en- 
thusiastic eulogy  of  them.  My .  observations 
were  add  cssed  to  Mrs.  Somerville,  for  I 
found  I  could  talk  to  her  with  more  ease  than 
to  her  daughter.  She  appeared  perfectly  alive 
to  the  beauties  of  the  poet,  and  disposed  to 
meet  me  in  the  discussion  ;  but  it  was  not  my 
object  to  hear  her  talk  ;  it  was  to  talk  myself. 
I  anticipated  all  she  had  to  say,  overpowered 
her  with  the  copiousness  of  my  ideas,  and  sup- 
ported and  illustrated  them  by  long  citations 
from  the  author. 

While  thus  holding  forth,  I  cast  a  side-glance 
to  see  how  Miss  Somerville  was  affected.  She 
had  some  embroidery  stretched  on  a  frame 
before  her,  but  had  paused  in  her  labor,  and 
was  looking  down,  as  if  lost  in  mute  attention. 
I  felt  a  glow  of  self-satisfaction  ;  but  I  recol- 
lected, at  the  same  time,  with  a  kind  of  pique, 
the  advantage  she  had  enjoyed  over  me  in  our 
tHe-h-tite,  I  determined  to  push  my  triumph, 
and  accordingly  kept  on  with  redoubled  ardor, 
until  I  had  fairly  exhausted  my  subject,  or 
rather  my  thoughts. 

I  had  scarce  come  to  a  full  stop,  when  Miss 
Somerville  raised  her  ey  iS  from  the  \vork  on 
which  they  had  been  fixed,  and  turning  to  her 


AOttlttjOt 


^la 


mother,  observed  :  **  I  have  been  considering, 
mamma,  whether  to  work  these  flowers  plain, 
or  in  colors." 

Had  an  ice-bolt  been  shot  to  my  heart,  it 
could  not  have  chilled  me  more  effectually. 
"  What  a  fool,"  thought  I,  "  have  I  been  mak- 
ing myself, — squandering  away  fine  thoughts 
and  fine  language  upon  a  light  mind  and  an 
igiorant  ear !  This  girl  knows  nothing  of 
poetry.  She  has  no  soul,  I  fear,  for  its  beauties. 
Can  any  one  have  real  sensibility  of  heart,  and 
not  be  alive  to  poetry  !  However,  she  is 
young  ;  this  part  of  her  education  has  been 
neglected  ;  there  is  time  enough  to  remedy  it. 
I  will  be  her  preceptor.  I  will  kindle  in  her 
mind  the  sacred  flame,  and  lead  her  through 
the  fairy  land  of  song.  But,  after  all,  it  is 
rather  unfortunate  that  I  should  have  fallen  in 
love  with  a  woman  who  knows  nothing  of 
poetry." 

I  passed  a  day  not  altogether  satisfactory.  I 
was  a  little  disappointed  that  Miss  Somerville 
did  not  show  more  poetical  feeling.  "  I  am 
afraid,  after  all,"  said  I  to  myself,  "  she  is  light 
and  girlish,  and  more  fitted  to  pluck  wild 
flowers,  play  on  the  flageolet,  and  romp  with 
little  dogs,  than  to  converse  with  a  man  of  my 
turn."  . 

I  believe  however,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  was 


i 

^4  J I 


.»''  §^ 


I; 


Ifil 


344 


Aountjoe 


more  out  of  humor  with  myself.  I  thought  I 
had  made  the  worst  first  appearance  that  ever 
hero  made,  either  in  novel  or  fairy  tale.  I  was 
out  of  all  patience  when  I  called  to  mind  my 
awkward  ac^enipts  at  ease  and  elegance,  in  the 
tite-h-tite .  nd  then  my  intolerable  long 
lecture  about  poetry,  to  catch  the  applause  of 
a  heedless  auditor  !  But  there  I  was  not  to 
blame.  I  had  certainly  been  eloquent ;  it  was 
her  fault  that  the  eloquence  was  wasted.  To 
meditate  upon  the  embroidery  of  a  flower, 
when  I  was  expatiating  on  the  beauties  of 
Milton  !  She  might  at  least  have  admired  the 
poetry,  if  she  did  not  relish  the  manner  in 
which  it  was  delivered ;  though  that  was  not 
despicable,  for  I  had  recited  passages  in  my 
best  style,  which  my  mother  and  sisters  ha':^ 
always  considered  equal  to  a  play.  "  Oh,  it  is 
evident,"  thought  I,  "  Miss  Somerville  has 
very  little  soul !" 

Such  were  my  fancies  and  cogitations  during 
the  day,  the  greater  part  of  which  was  spent 
in  my  chamber  ;  for  I  was  still  languid.  My 
evening  was  passed  in  the  drawing-room, 
where  I  overlooked  Miss  Somerville' s  portfolio 
of  sketches.  They  were  executed  with  great 
taste,  and  showed  a  nice  observation  of  the 
peculiarities  of  Nature.  They  were  all  her 
own,  and  free  from  those  cunning  tints  s^nd 


Aountjoc 


34S 


touches  of  the  drawing-master,  by  which 
young  ladies'  drawings,  like  their  heads,  are 
dressed  up  for  company.  There  was  no  garish 
and  vulgar  trick  of  colors,  either ;  all  was 
executed  with  singular  truth  and  simplicity. 

*•  And  yet,*'  thought  I,  "this  little  being, 
who  has  so  pure  an  eye  to  take  in,  as  in  a 
linr-oid  brook,  all  the  graceful  forms  and  magic 
tints  of  Nature,  has  no  soul  for  poetry  !  " 

Mr.  Somerville,  toward  the  latter  part  of  the 
e  /ening,  observing  my  eye  to  wander  occasion- 
ally to  the  harp,  interpreted  and  met  my  wishes 
with  his  accustomed  civility. 

'Julia,  my  dear,"  said  he,  "  Mr,  Mountjoy 
would  like  to  hear  a  little  music  from  your 
harp ;  let  us  hear,  too,  the  sound  of  yout 
voice." 

Julia  immediately  complied,  without  any  of 
that  hesitation  and  difficulty  by  which  young 
ladies  are  apt  to  make  the  company  pay  ctat 
for  bad  music.  She  sang  a  sprightly  strain, 
in  a  brilliant  style,  that  came  thrilling  play- 
fully over  the  ear  ;  and  the  bright  eye  and 
dimpling  smile  showed  that  her  little  heart 
danced  with  the  song.  Her  pet  Canary  bird, 
who  hung  close  by,  was  wakened  by  the  music, 
and  burst  forth  into  an  emulating  strain.  Julia 
smiled  with  a  pretty  air  of  defiance,  and  played 
louder. 


Im 


Wi- 


m' 


if  I-   W' 

fe   II 
ffefi 

ii  ft  U  ^  i  [ 
III  -si 


'Ipuli 


E  .-  * 


il 


346 


AountJoiS 


After  some  time  the  music  changed,  and  ran 
into  a  plaintive  strain,  in  a  minor  key.  Then 
it  was  that  all  the  former  witchery  of  her  voice 
came  over  me  ;  tlien  it  was  that  she  seemed  to 
sing  from  the  heart  and  to  the  heart.  Her  fin- 
gers moved  about  the  chords  as  if  they  scarcely 
touched  them.  Her  whole  manner  and  appear- 
ance changed  ;  her  eyes  beamed  with  the  soft- 
est expression  ;  her  countenance,  her  frame, — 
all  seemed  subdued  into  tenderness.  She  rose 
from  the  harp,  leaving  jt  still  vibrating  with 
sweet  sounds,  and  moved  toward  her  father  to 
bid  him  good-night. 

His  eyes  had  been  fixed  on  her  intently  dur- 
ing her  performance.  As  she  came  before  him, 
he  parted  her  shining  ringlets  with  both  his 
hands,  and  looked  down  with  the  fondness  of 
a  father  on  her  innocent  face.  The  ^music 
seemed  still  lingering  in  its  lineaments,  aqd 
the  action  of  her  father  brought  a  moist  gleam 
in  her  eye.  He  kissed  her  fair  forehead, 
after  the  French  mode  of  parental  caressing : 
"Good-night,  and  God  bless  you,"  said  he, 
"  my  good  little  girl !  " 

Julia  tripped  away  with  a  tear  in  her  eye,  a 
dimple  in  her  cheek,  and  a  light  heart  in  her 
bosom.  I  thought  it  the  prettiest  picture  of 
paternal  and  filial  affection  I  had  ever  seen. 

When  I  retired  to  bed  a  new  train  of  thougl?ts 


Aountjot; 


347 


and  ran 
.     Then 
ler  voice 
:emed  to 
Her  fin- 
scarcely 
I  appear- 
tlie  soft- 
frame,— 
She  rose 
ing  with 
,  father  to 

intly  dur- 
jfore  him, 
both  his 
idness  of 
e  imusic 
nts,  and 
ist  gleam 
forehead, 
aressing : 
said  he, 

ler  eye,  a 
irt  in  her 
)icture  of 

seen. 

thougl^ts 


crowded  into  my  brain.  "After  all,"  said  I 
to  myself,  "it  is  clear  this  girl  has  a  soul, 
though  she  was  not  moved  by  my  eloquence. 
She  has  all  the  outward  signs  and  evidences  of 
poetic  feeling.  She  paints  well,  and  has  an 
eye  for  Nature.  She  is  a  fine  musician,  and 
enters  into  the  very  soul  of  song.  What  a 
pity  that  she  knows  nothing  of  poetry  !  But 
we  will  see  what  is  to  be  done.  I  am  irretriev- 
ably in  love  with  her  ;  what  then  am  I  to  do  ? 
Come  down  to  the  level  of  her  mind,  or  en- 
deavor to  raise  her  to  some  kind  of  intellectual 
equality  with  myself?  That  is  the  most  gen- 
erous course.  She  will  look  up  to  me  as  a 
benefactor.  I  shall  become  associated  in  her 
mind  with  the  lofty  thoughts  and  harmonious 
graces  of  poetry.  She  is  apparentlv  docile ; 
besides  the  difference  of  our  ages  will  give  me 
an  ascendency  over  her.  She  cannot  be  above 
sixteen  years  of  age,  and  I  am  full  turned  of 
twenty."  So,  having  built  this  most  delec- 
table of  air-castles,  I  fell  asleep. 

The  next  morning  I  was  quite  a  different 
being.  I  no  longer  felt  fearful  of  stealing  a 
glance  at  Julia ;  on  the  contrary,  I  contem- 
plated her  steadily,  with  the  benignant  eye  of 
a  benefactor.  Shortly  after  breakfast  I  found 
myself  alone  with  her,  as  I  had  on  the  preced- 
ing morning ;  but  I  felt  nothing  of  the  awkward- 


'..'«« 


Jl 

■''■'!> 


348 


Aountjov 


U  r 

1  ?■: 


,y    1 


ness  of  our  previous  iite-h-tite.  I  was  elevated 
by  the  consciousness  of  my  intellectual  superi- 
ority, and  should  almost  have  felt  a  sentiment 
of  pity  for  the  ignorance  of  the  lovely  little 
being,  if  I  had  not  felt  also  the  assurance  that 
I  should  be  able  to  dispel  it.  * '  But  it  is  time, '  * 
thought  I,  "  to  open  school." 

Julia  was  occupied  in  arranging  some  music 
on  her  piano.  I  looked  over  two  or  three 
songs  ;  they  were  Moore's  Irish  Melodies. 

"These  are  pretty  things,"  said  I,  flirting 
the  leaves  over  lightly,  and  giving  a  slight 
shrug,  by  way  of  qualifying  the  opinion. 

"  Oh,  I  love  them  of  all  things  !  "  said  Julia, 
"  they  're  so  touching  !  " 

"  Then  you  like  them  for  the  poetry?  "  said 
I,  with  an  encouraging  smile. 

"Oh,  yes;  she  thought  them  charmingly 
written." 

Now  was  my  time.  * '  Poetry, ' '  said  I,  assum- 
ing a  didactic  attitude  and  air, — "  poetry  is  one 
of  the  most  pleasing  studies  to  occupy  a  youth- 
ful mind.  It  renders  us  susceptible  of  the 
gentle  impulses  of  humanity,  and  cherishes  a 
delicate  perception  of  all  that  is  virtuous  and 
elevated  in  morals,  and  graceful  and  beautiful 
in  physics.     It — " 

I  was  going  on  in  a  style  that  would  have 
graced  a  professor  of  rhetoric,  when  I  saw  a 


Aount]0]2 


349 


light  smile  playing  about  Miss  Somerville's 
mouth,  and  that  she  began  to  turn  over  the 
leaves  of  a  music  book.  I  recollected  her  inat- 
tention to  my  discourse  of  the  preceding  morn- 
ing. "There  is  no  fixing  her  light  mind," 
thought  I,  "by  abstract  theory;  we  will 
proceed  practically."  As  it  happened,  the 
identical  volume  of  Milton's  Paradise  Lost  was 
lying  at  hand. 

"Let  me  recommend  to  you,  my  young 
friend,"  said  I,  in  one  of  thOvSe  tones  of  per- 
suasive admonition,  which  T  had  so  often  loved 
in  Glencoe, — "let  me  recommend  to  you  this 
admirable  poem  :  you  will  find  in  it  sources  of 
intellectual  enjoyment  far  superior  to  thosi; 
.songs  which  have  delighted  you."  Julia 
looked  at  the  book,  and  then  at  me,  with  a 
whimsically  dubious  air.  "  Milton's  Paradise 
Z^j/.^"  said  she;  "oh,  I  know  the  greater 
part  of  that  by  heart." 

I  had  not  expected  to  find  my  pupil  so  far 
advanced ;  however,  the  Paradise  Lost  is  a 
kind  of  school-book,  and  its  finest  passages  are 
given  to  young  ladies  as  tasks. 

"I  find,"  said  I  to  myself,  "I  must  not 
treat  her  as  so  complete  a  novice  ;  her  inatten- 
tion, yesterday,  could  not  have  proceeded  from 
absolute  ignorance,  but  merely  from  a  want  of 
poetic  feeling.     I  *11  try  her  again." 


I 

k.    I 

I     ■;.  I 


S50 


ijbountloi; 


'i  *  ■ 

•i 

T 


rt 


Els 

u 


I  now  detcrniincd  to  dazzle  her  with  my  own 
erudition,  and  launched  into  a  harangue  that 
would  have  done  honor  to  an  institute.  Pope, 
Six?nser,  Chaucer,  and  the  old  dramatic  writers 
were  all  dipped  into,  with  the  excursive  flight 
of  a  swallow.  I  did  not  confine  myself  to 
English  poets,  but  gave  a  glance  at  the  French 
and  Italian  schools  :  I  passed  over  Ariosto  in 
full  wing,  but  paused  on  Tasso's  Jertisalem 
Delivered.  I  dwelt  on  the  character  of  Clo- 
rinda:  "  There 's  a  character,"  said  I,  "that 
you  will  find  well  worthy  a  woman's  study. 
It  shows  to  what  exhalted  heights  of  heroism 
the  sex  can  rise ;  how  gloriously  they  may 
share  even  in  the  stern  concerns  of  men.'* 

"  For  my  part,"  said  Julia,  gently  taking 
advantage  of  a  pause, — "  for  my  part,  I  prefer 
the  character  of  Sophronia." 

I  was  thunderstruck.  She  then  had  read 
Tasso  !  This  girl  that  I  had  been  treating  as 
an  ignoramus  in  poetry  !  She  proceeded,  with 
a  slight  glow  of  the  cheek,  summoned  up 
perhaps  by  a  casual  glow  of  feeling  : — 

"  I  do  not  admire  those  masculine  heroines," 
said  she,  "  who  aim  at  the  bold  qualities  of  the 
opposite  sex.  Now  Sophronia  only  exhibits 
the  real  qualities  of  a  woman,  wrought  up  to 
their  highest  excitement.  She  is  modest, 
gentle,  and  retiring,  as  it  becomes  a  woman  to 


I 


Aountjoi? 


35t 


my  own 
;ue  that 
Pope, 
:  writers 
/e  flight 
yself  to 
:  French 
riosto  in 
erusaletn 

of  Clo- 
I,  ''that 
s  study. 

heroism 
ley  may 
m." 

f  taking 
,  I  prefer 

ad  read 
leating  as 

led,  with 
loned   up 

iroines," 

lies  of  the 

exhibits 

^ht  up  to 

modest, 

^oman  to 


be ;  but  she  has  all  the  strength  of  affection 
proper  to  a  woman.  She  cannot  fight  for  her 
people,  as  Clorinda  does,  but  she  can  offer 
herself  up,  and  die,  to  serv'e  them.  You  may 
admire  Clorinda,  but  you  surely  would  be  more 
apt  to  love  Sophronia  ;  at  least,"  added  she, 
suddenly  appearing  to  recollect  herself,  and 
blushing  at  having  launched  into  such  a  dis- 
cussion,— "  at  least,  that  is  what  papa  observed, 
when  we  read  the  poem  together." 

"  Indeed,"  said  I,  dryly,  for  I  felt  discon- 
certed and  nettled  at  being  unexpectedly  lec- 
tured by  my  pupil, — "  indeed,  I  do  not  exactly 
recollect  the  passage." 

"  Oh,"  said  Julia,  "  I  can  repeat  it  to  you  ; " 
and  she  immediately  gave  it  in  Italian. 

Heavens  and  earth  ! — here  was  a  situation  ! 
I  knew  no  more  of  Italian  than  I  did  of  the 
language*  of  P.salmanazar.  What  a  dilemma 
for  a  would-be-wise  man  to  be  placed  in  !  I 
saw  Julia  waited  for  my  opinion. 

*•  In  fact,"  said  I,  hesitating,  "  I— I  Jo  not 
exactly  understand  Italian." 

"Oh,"  said  Julia,  with  the  utmost  natvetS, 
"  I  have  no  doubt  it  is  very  beautiful  in  the 
translation." 

I  was  glad  to  break  up  school  and  get  back 
to  my  chamber,  full  of  the  mortification  which 
a  wise  man  in  love  experiences  on  finding  his 


.1 


m 


m 


i 


if  ; 


J  I,.     i 
![:     i: 


m 


■fir' 


■■'    ■'■ 


352 


ASountjog 


mistress  wiser  than  himself.  "Translation! 
translation  !  "  muttered  I  to  myself,  as  I  jerktd 
the  door  shut  behind  me.  "  I  am  surprised 
my  father  has  never  had  me  instructed  in  the 
modern  languages.  They  are  all-important. 
What  is  the  use  of  Latin  and  Greek  ?  No  one 
speaks  them  ;  but  here,  the  moment  I  make 
my  appearance  in  the  world,  a  little  girl  slaps 
Italian  in  my  face.  However,  thank  Heaven, 
a  language  is  easily  learned.  The  moment  I 
return  home,  I  '11  set  about  studying  Italian  ; 
and  to  prevent  future  surprise,  I  will  study 
Spanish  and  German  at  the  same  time  ;  and 
if  any  young  lady  attempts  to  quote  Italian 
upon  me  again,  I  '11  bury  her  under  a  heap  of 
High  Dutch  poetry  !  " 

I  felt  now  like  some  mighty  chieftain,  who 
has  carried  the  war  into  a  weak  country,  with 
full  confidence  of  success,  and  been  repulsed 
and  obliged  to  draw  off  his  forces  from  before 
some  inconsiderable  fortress. 

"However,"  thought  I,  **  I  have  as  yet 
brought  only  my  light  artillery  into  action ; 
we  shall  see  what  is  to  be  done  with  my  heavy 
ordnance.  Julia  is  evidently  well  versed  in 
poetry  ;  but  it  is  natural  she  should  be  so  ;  it 
is  allied  to  painting  and  music,  and  is  congenial 
to  the  light  graces  of  the  female  character. 
We  will  try  her  on  graver  themes.'* 


Aountjoi? 


353 


I  felt  all  my  pride  awakened  ;  it  even  for  a 
time  swelled  higher  than  my  love.  I  was  deter- 
mined completely  to  establish  my  mental  superi- 
ority, and  subdue  the  intellect  of  this  little  being : 
it  would  then  be  time  to  sway  the  sceptre  of  gentle 
empire,  and  win  the  affections  of  her  heart. 

Accordingly,  at  dinner  T  again  took  the  field 
en  potence.  I  now  addressed  myself  to  Mr. 
Somerville,  for  I  was  about  to  enter  upon  topics 
in  which  a  young  girl  like  her  could  not  be 
well  versed.  I  led,  or  rather  forced,  the  con- 
versation into  a  vein  of  historical  erudition, 
discussing  several  of  the  most  prominent  facts 
of  ancient  history  and  accompanying  them  with 
sound,  indisputable  apothegms. 

Mr.  Somerville  listened  to  me  with  the  air 
of  a  man  receiving  information.  I  was  en- 
couraged, and  went  on  gloriously  from  theme 
to  theme  of  school  declamation.  I  sat  with 
Marius  on  the  ruins  of  Carthage  ;  I  defended 
the  bridge  with  Horatius  Cocles ;  thrust  my 
hand  into  the  flame  with  Martins  Scsevola, 
and  plunged  with  Curtius  into  the  yawning 
gulf ;  I  fought  side  by  side  with  Leonidas,  at 
the  straits  of  Thermopylae  ;  and  was  going  full 
drive  into  the  battle  of  Platsea,  when  my 
memory,  which  is  the  worst  in  the  world,  failed 
me,  just  as  I  wanted  the  name  of  the  I^acedae- 
monian  commander. 

VOL.  11.-23 


f 


•jy. 


-I. 

L"'  '  r  -, 


!  i 

in 


1^ 


?i,i 


>n 


K 


si 


354 


Aoutitjoe 


"Julia,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Somerville, 
'*  perhaps  you  may  recollect  the  name  of  which 
Mr.  Mountjoy  is  in  quest  ?  " 

Julia  colored  slightly  :  "  I  believe,"  said  she, 
in  a  low  voice, — '*  I  believe  it  was  Pausanias." 

This  unexpected  sally,  instead  of  reinforcing 
me,  threw  my  whole  scheme  of  battle  into  con- 
fusion, and  the  Athenians  remained  unmolested 
in  the  field. 

I  am  half  inclined,  since,  to  think  Mr.  Somer- 
ville meant  this  as  a  sly  hit  at  my  schoolboy 
pedantry ;  but  he  was  too  well-bred  not  to 
seek  to  relieve  me  from  my  mortification. 
**  Oh  ! "  said  he,  "Julia  is  our  family  book  of 
reference  for  names,  dates,  and  distances,  and 
has  an  excellent  memory  for  history  and 
geography.*' 

I  now  became  desperate  ;  as  a  last  resource, 
I  turned  to  metaphysics.  '*  If  she  is  a  philoso- 
pher in  petticoats,*'  thought  I,  **  it  is  all  over 
with  me.** 

Here,  however,  I  had  the  field  to  myself.  I 
gave  chapter  and  verse  of  my  tutor's  lectures, 
heightened  by  all  his  poetical  illustrations ;  I 
even  went  fartiier  than  he  had  ever  ventured, 
and  plunged  into  such  depths  of  metaphysics, 
that  I  was  in  danger  of  sticking  in  the  mire  at 
the  bottom.  Fortunately,  I  had  auditors  who 
apparently  could  not  detect  my  flounderings. 


Aountjoi? 


3S5 


lerville, 
►f  which 

laid  she, 
sanias." 
nforcing 
into  con- 
tnolested 

■.  Somer- 
choolboy 
1  not  to 
ification. 
'  book  of 
ices,  and 
:ory   and 

resource, 
philoso- 
all  over 


Neither  Mr.  Soraerville  nor  his  daughter  offered 
the  least  interruption. 

When  the  ladies  had  retired,  Mr.  Somerville 
sat  some  time  with  me  ;  and  as  I  was  no  longer 
anxious  to  astonish,  I  permitted  myself  to  lis- 
ten, and  found  that  he  was  really  agreeable. 
He  was  quite  communicative,  and  from  his 
conversation  I  was  enabled  to  form  a  juster 
idea  of  his  daughter's  character,  and  the  mode 
in  which  she  had  been  brought  up.  Mr. 
Somerville  had  mingled  much  with  the  world, 
and  with  what  is  termed  fashionable  society. 
He  had  experienced  its  cold  elegancies,  and 
gay  insincerities  ;  its  dissipation  of  the  spirits, 
and  squanderings  of  the  heart.  Like  many 
men  of  the  world,  though  he  had  wandered 
too  far  from  Nature  ever  to  return  to  it,  yet  he 
had  the  good  taste  and  good  feeling  to  look 
back  fondly  to  its  simple  delights,  and  to  de- 
termine that  his  child,  if  possible,  should  never 
leave  them.  He  had  superintended  her  edu- 
cation with  scrupulous  care,  storing  her  mind 
with  the  graces  of  polite  literature,  and  with 
such  knowledge  as  would  enable  it  to  furnish 
its  own  amusement  and  occupation,  and  giving 
her  all  the  accomplishments  that  sweeten  and 
enliven  the  qircle  of  domestic  life.  He  had 
been  particularly  sedulous  to  exclude  fashion- 
able   afifectations ;    all  false    sentiment,   false 


I 


35i> 


Aountjoe 


f  . 


i:tl: 


if  I 


sensibility,  and  false  romance.  **  Whatever 
advantages  she  may  possess,"  said  he,  "  she  is 
quite  unconscious  of  them.  She  is  a  capricious 
little  being,  in  everything  but  her  affections ; 
she  is,  however,  fro.  from  art ;  simple,  ingenu- 
ous, innocent,  am 'able,  and,  I  thank  God  ! 
happy." 

Such  was  the  eulogy  of  a  fond  father,  de- 
livered with  a  tenderness  that  touched  me.  I 
could  not  help  making  a  casual  inquiry 
whether,  among  the  graces  of  polite  literature, 
he  had  included  a  slight  tincture  of  metaphy- 
sics.    He  smiled,  and  told  me  he  had  not. 

On  the  whole,  when,  as  usual,  that  night  I 
summed  up  the  day's  observations  on  my  pil- 
low, I  was  not  altogether  dissatisfied.  "  Miss 
Somerville,"  said  I,  "  loves  poetry,  and  I  like 
her  the  better  for  it.  She  has  the  advantage 
of  me  in  Italian  :  agreed  ;  what  is  it  to  know 
a  variety  of  languages,  but  merely  to  have  a 
variety  of  sounds  to  express  the  same  idea? 
Original  thought  is  the  ore  of  the  mind  ;  lan- 
guage is  but  the  accidental  stamp  and  coinage, 
by  which  it  is  put  into  circulation.  If  I  can 
furnish  an  original  idea,  what  care  I  how  many 
languages  she  can  translate  it  into  ?  She  may 
be  able,  also,  to  quote  names,  and  dates,  and 
latitudes,  better  than  I ;  but  that  is  a  mere 
eflfort  of  the  memory.     I  admit  she  is  more 


Aountjds 


9S7 


accurate  in  history  and  geography  than  I ;  but 
then  she  knows  nothing  of  metaphysics." 

I  had  now  suflSciently  recovered  to  return 
home  ;  yet  I  could  not  think  of  leaving  Mr. 
Somerville's  without  having  a  little  farther 
conversation  with  him  on  the  subject  of  his 
daughter's  education. 

"This  Mr.  Somerville,"  thought  I,  "is  a 
vrry  accomplished,  elegant  man  ;  he  has  seen 
a  good  deal  of  the  world,  and,  upon  the  whole, 
has  profited  by  what  he  has  seen.  He  is  not 
without  information,  and,  as  far  as  he  thinks, 
appears  to  think  correctly  ;  but  after  all,  he  is 
rather  superficial,  and  does  not  think  pro- 
foundly. He  seems  to  take  no  delight  in  those 
metaphysical  abstractions  that  are  the  proper 
aliment  of  masculine  minds."  I  called  to 
mind  various  occasions  in  which  I  had  in- 
dulged largely  in  metaphysical  discussions,  but 
could  recollect  no  instance  where  I  had  been 
able  to  draw  him  out.  He  had  listened,  it  is 
true,  with  attention,  and  smiled  as  if  in  ac- 
quiescence, but  had  always  appeared  to  avoid 
reply.  Besides,  I  had  made  several  sad  blun- 
ders in  the  glow  of  eloquent  declamation  ;  but 
he  had  never  interrupted  me,  to  notice  and 
correct  them,  as  he  would  have  done  had  he 
been  versed  in  the  theme. 

*'  Now  it  is  really  a  great  pity,"  resumed  I, 


% 

m 


11 


m 
I 


1 


M 


358 


/ISountios 


r^  .'it' 


^  "^ 


"  that  he  should  have  the  entire  management 
of  Miss  Somerville's  education.  What  a  vast 
advantage  it  would  be,  If  she  could  be  put  for 
a  little  timt  under  the  superintendence  of 
Glencoe.  He  would  throw  some  deeper  luiacks 
of  thought  into  her  mind,  which  at  pre.  .en t  h 
all  sunshine  ;  not  but  that  Mr,  SomervilU  has 
done  very  well,  as  far  as  he  has  gone  ;  but  then 
he  has  merely  prepared  the  soil  for  the  strong 
plants  of  useful  knowledgeo  She  is  well  versed 
in  the  leading  facts  of  history,  and  the  general 
course  of  hclles  lettres."  said  I ;  **  a  little  more 
philosophy  v.i)i]iid  do  wonders." 

I  accordingly  took  occasion  to  ask  Mr.  Som- 
erville  for  a  few  moments'  conversation  in 
his  study,  the  morning  I  was  to  depart.  When 
we  were  alone,  I  opened  the  matter  fully  to  him. 
I  commenced  with  the  warmest  eulogium  of 
Glencoe' s  powers  of  mind,  and  vast  acquire- 
ments, and  ascribed  to  him  all  my  proficiency 
in  the  higher  branches  of  knowledge.  I  begged, 
therefore,  to  recommend  him  as  a  friend  calcu- 
lated to  direct  the  studies  of  Miss  Somerville  ; 
to  lead  her  mind,  by  degrees,  to  the  contem- 
plation of  abstract  principles,  and  to  produce 
habits  of  philosophical  analysis;  *' which," 
added  I,  gently  smiling,  **  are  not  often  culti- 
vated by  young  ladies."  I  ventured  to  hint, 
in  addition,  that  he  would  find  Mr.  Glencoe  a 


Aountjos 


359: 


*" 


most  valuable  and  interesting  acquaintance  for 
himself ;  one  who  would  stimulate  and  evolve 
the  powers  of  his  mind  ;  and  who  might  open 
to  him  tracts  of  inquiry  and  speculation  to 
which  perhaps  he  had  hitherto  been  a  stranger. 
Mr.  Somerville  listened  with  grave  attention. 
When  I  had  finished,  he  thanked  me  in  the 
politest  manner  for  the  interest  I  took  in  the 
welfare  of  his  daughter  and  himself.  He  ob- 
served that,  as  regarded  himself,  he  was  afraid 
he  was  too  old  to  benefit  by  the  instructions 
of  Mr.  Glencoe,  and  that  as  to  his  daughter, 
he  was  afiraid  her  mind  was  but  little  fitted  for 
the  study  of  metaphysics.  "  I  do  not  wish," 
continued  he,  "to  strain  her  intellects  with 
subjects  they  cannot  grasp,  but  to  make  her 
familiarly  acquainted  with  those  that  are  within 
the  limits  of  her  capacity.  I  do  not  pretend  to 
prescribe  the  boundaries  of  female  genius,  and 
am  far  from  indulging  the  vulgar  opinion  that 
women  are  unfitted  by  Nature  for  the  highest 
intellectual  pursuits.  I  speak  only  with  ref- 
erence to  my  daughter's  taste  and  talents. 
She  will  never  make  a  learned  woman  ;  nor  in 
truth  do  I  desire  it ;  for  such  is  the  jealousy 
of  our  sex,  as  to  mental  as  well  as  physical 
ascendency,  that  a  learned  woman  is  not  always 
the  happiest.  I  do  not  wish  my  daughter  to 
excite  envy,  nor  to  battle  with  the  prejudices 


\i.  ■■  * 


Hi 

I 

,'■■;' 


i 


36o 


Aountjoj? 


1^  f 


w 


It' 


r 


of  the  world  ;  but  to  glide  peaceably  through 
life,  on  the  good-will  and  kind  opinion  of  her 
friends.  She  has  ample  employment  for  her 
little  head  in  the  course  I  have  marked  put  for 
her ;  and  is  busy  at  present  with  some  branches 
of  natural  history,  calculated  to  awaken  her 
perceptions  to  the  beauties  and  wonders  of 
Nature,  and  to  the  inexhaustible  volume  of 
wisdom  constantly  spread  open  before  her  eyes. 
I  consider  that  woman  most  likely  to  make  an 
agreeable  companion,  who  can  draw  topics 
of  pleasing  remark  from  every  natural  object ; 
and  most  likely  to  be  cheerful  and  contented, 
who  is  continually  sensible  of  the  order,  the 
harmony,  and  the  invariable  beneficence  that 
reign  throughout  the  beautiful  world  we 
inhabit. 

*'  But,"  added  he,  smiling,  *'  I  am  betraying 
myself  into  a  lecture,  instead  of  merely  giving 
a  reply  to  your  kind  offer.  Permit  me  to  <  ake 
the  liberty,  in  return,  of  inquiring  a  little 
about  your  own  pursuits.  You  speak  of  hav- 
ing finished  your  education ;  but  of  course  you 
have  a  line  of  private  study  and  mental  occupa- 
tion marked  out  ;  for  you  mubc  know  the 
importance,  both  in  point  of  interest  and  hap- 
piness, of  keeping  the  mind  employed;  May 
I  ask  what  system  you  observe  in  your  intellec- 
tual exercises?'* 


Aountjoc 


.<i6i 


(I 


Oh,  as  to  system,"  I  observed,  **  I  could 
never  bring  myself  into  anything  of  the  kind. 
I  thought  it  best  to  let  my  genius  take  its  own 
course,  as  it  always  acted  the  most  vigorously 
when  stimulated  by  inclination." 

Mr.  Somerville  shook  his  head.  '  *  This  same 
genius,"  said  he  "  is  a  wild  quality,  that  runs 
away  with  our  most  promising  young  men. 
It  has  become  so  much  the  fashion,  too,  to  give 
it  the  reins,  that  it :  i  now  thought  an  animal 
of  too  noble  and  generous  a  nature  to  be  brought 
to  the  harness.  But  it  is  all  a  mistake.  Na- 
ture never  designed  these  high  endowments  to 
run  riot  through  society,  and  throw  the  whole 
system  into  confusion.  No,  my  dear  sir ; 
genius,  unless  it  acts  upon  system,  is  very  apt 
to  be  a  useless  quality  to  society  ;  sometimes 
an  injurious,  and  certainly  a  very  uncomfort- 
able one,  to  Its  possessor.  I  have  had  many 
opportunities  cf  seeing  the  progress  through 
life  of  young  men  who  were  accounted  geniuses, 
and  have  found  it  too  often  end  in  early  exhaus- 
tion and  bitter  disappointment ;  and  have  as 
often  noticed  that  these  effects  might  be  traced 
tc  a  total  w^ant  of  system.  There  were  no 
habits  of  business,  of  steady  purpose,  and 
regular  application  superinduced  upon  the 
mind  ;  everything  was  left  to  chance  and  im- 
pulse, and  native  luxuriance,  and  everything 


-.  i. 


36a 


Aountjoe 


s.r 


of  course  ran  to  waste  and  wild  entanglement. 
Excuse  me  if  I  am  tedious  on  this  point,  for  I 
feel  solicitous  to  impress  it  upon  you,  being  an 
error  extremely  prevalent  in  pur  country,  and 
one  into  which  too  many  of  our  youth  have 
fallen.  I  am  happy,  however,  to  observe  the 
zeal  which  still  appeai-s  to  actuate  you  for  the 
acquisition  of  knowledge,  and  augur  every 
good  from  the  elevated  bent  of  your  ambiton. 
May  I  ask  what  has  been  your  course  of  study 
for  the  last  six  months  ?  " 

Never  was  question  more  unluckily  timed. 
For  the  last  six  months  I  had  been  absolutely 
buried  in  novels  and  romances. 

Mr.  Somerville  perceived  that  the  question 
was  embarrassing,  and  with  his  invariable 
good  breeding,  immediately  resumed  the  con- 
versation, without  waiting  for  a  reply.  He 
took  care,  h'^wever,  to  turn  it  in  such  a  way  as 
to  draw  from  me  an  account  of  the  whole 
manner  in  which  I  had  been  educated,  and  the 
various  currents  of  reading  into  which  my  mind 
had  run.  He  then  went  on  to  discuss  briefly, 
but  impressively,  the  difierent  branches  of 
knowledge  most  important  to  a  young  man  in 
my  situation  ;  and  to  my  surprise  I  found  him 
a  complete  master  of  those  studies  on  which  I 
had  supposed  him  ignorant,  and  on  which  I 
had  been  descanting  confidently. 


Aountjci? 


3f>3 


He  complimented  me,  however,  very  gra- 
ciously, upon  tlie  progress  I  had  made,  but 
advised  me  for  the  present  to  turn  my  attention 
to  the  physical  rather  than  the  moral  sciences. 
**  These  studies,"  said  he,  "store  a  man's  mind 
with  valuable  facts,  and  at  the  same  time  re- 
press self-confidence,  by  letting  him  know  how 
boundless  are  the  realms  of  knowledge,  and 
how  little  we  car.  possibly  know.  Whereas 
metaphysical  studies,  though  of  an  ingenious 
order  of  intellectual  employment,  are  apt  to 
bewilder  some  minds  with  vague  speculations. 
They  never  know  how  far  they  have  advanced, 
or  what  may  be  the  correctness  of  their  favorite 
theory.  They  render  many  of  our  young  men 
verbose  and  declamatory,  and  prone  to  mistake 
the  aberrations  of  their  fancy  for  the  inspira- 
tions of  divine  philosophy." 

I  could  not  but  interrupt  him,  to  assent  to 
the  truth  of  these  remarks,  and  to  say  that  it 
had  been  ray  lot,  in  the  course  of  my  limited 
experience,  to  encounter  young  men  of  the 
kind,  who  had  overwhelmed  me  by  their  ver- 
bosity. 

Mr.  Somerville  smiled.  "I  trust,"  said  he 
kindly,  "that  you  will  guard  against  these 
errors.  Avoid  the  eagerness  with  which  a 
young  man  is  apt  to  hurry  into  conversation, 
and  to  utter  the  crude  and  ill-digested  notions 


[yil 


m 


}<" 


'■    i. 


364 


Aountjos 


Iff 
1*- 


which  he  has  picked  up  in  his  recent  studies. 
Be  assured  that  extensive  and  accurate  knowl- 
edge is  the  slow  acquisition  of  a  studious  life- 
time ;  that  a  young  man,  however  pregnant 
his  wit  and  prompt  his  talent,  can  have  mas- 
tered but  the  rudiments  of  learning,  and,  in 
a  manner  attained  the  impleitients  of  study. 
Whatever  may  have  been  your  past  assiduity, 
you  must  be  sensible  that  as  yet  you  have  but 
reached  the  threshold  of  true  knowledge  ;  but 
at  the  same  tjme,  you  have  the  advantage 
that  you  are  still  very  young,  and  have  ample 
time  to  learn." 

Here  our  conference  ended.  I  walked  out 
of  the  study,  a  very  different  being  from  what 
I  was  on  entering  it.  I  had  gone  in  with  the 
air  of  a  professor  about  to  deliver  a  lecture  ;  I 
came  out  like  a  student,  who  had  failed  in  his 
examination,  and  been  degraded  in  his  class. 

"Very  young,'*  and  **on  the  threshold  of 
knowledge  !  "  This  was  extremely  flattering 
to  one  who  had  considered  himself  an  accom- 
plished scholar  and  profound  philosopher  1 

"It is  singular,'*  thought  I;  "there  seems 
to  have  been  a  spell  upon  my  faculties  ever 
since  I  have  been  in  this  house.  I  certainly 
have  not  been  able  to  do  myself  justice.  When- 
ever I  have  undertaken  to  advise,  I  have  had 
the  tables  turned  upon  me.    It  must  be  that  I 


Aottittjos 


365 


am  strange  and  diffident  among  people  I  am 
not  accustomed  to.  I  wish  they  could  hear 
me  talk  at  home  ! " 

"After  all,"  added  I,  on  farther  reflection, 
— "after  all,  there  is  a  great  deal  of  force  in 
what  Mr.  Somerville  has  said.  Somehow  or 
other,  these  men  of  the  world  do  now  and  then 
hit  upon  remarks  that  would  do  credit  to  a 
philosopher.  Some  of  his  general  observations 
came  so  home,  that  I  almost  thought  they  were 
meant  for  myself.  His  advice  about  adopting 
a  system  of  study,  is  very  judicious.  I  will 
immediately  put  it  in  practice.  My  mind  shall 
operate  henceforward  with  the  regularity  of 
clock-work.'* 

How  far  I  succeeded  in  adopting  this  plan, 
how  I  fared  in  the  farther  pursuit  of  knowledge, 
and  how  I  succeeded  in  my  suit  to  Julia  Somer- 
ville, may  afford  matter  for  a  farther  communi- 
cation to  the  public,  if  this  simple  record  of 
my  early  life  is  fortunate  enough  to  excite  any 
curiosity. 


r. 


''.'fi 


■  ?;>-;' 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  THE 
ALHAMBRA. 


V.  li 


fj!      i 


I  HAVE  already  given  to  the  world  some 
anecdotes  of  a  summer's  residence  in  the 
old  Moorish  palace  of  the  Alhambra.  It 
was  a  dreamy  sojourn,  during  which  I  lived, 
as  it  were,  in  the  midst  of  an  Arabian  tale, 
and  shut  my  eyes  as  much  as  possible  to  everj'^- 
thing  that  should  call  me  back  to  every-day 
life.  If  there  is  any  country  in  Europe  where 
one  can  do  so,  it  is  among  these  magnificent 
but  semi-barbaric  ruins  of  poor,  wild,  legen- 
dary, romantic  Spain.  In  the  silent  and  de- 
serted halls  of  the  Alhambra,  surrounded  with 
the  insignia  of  regal  sway,  and  the  vivid, 
though  dilapidated  traces  of  Oriental  luxury, 
I  was  in  the  stronghold  of  Moorish  story,  where 
everything  spoke  of  the  palmy  days  of  Granada 
when  under  the  dominion  of  the  crescent. 

366 


Vccollectiond  o(  tbe  Blbambra 


367 


Much  of  the  literature  of  Spain  turns  upon  the 
wars  of  the  Moors  and  Christians,  and  consists 
of  traditional  ballads  and  tales  or  romances, 
about  the  ^^  bucnas  andanzas^''  and  ^^ grandes 
hechos,'*  the  "lucky  adventures  "and  "great 
exploits  "  of  the  warriors  of  yore.  It  is  worthy 
of  remark,  that  many  of  these  lays  which  sing 
of  prowess  and  magnanimity  in  war,  and  ten- 
derness and  fidelity  in  love,  relate  as  well  to 
Moorish  as  to  Spanish  cavaliers.  The  lapse 
of  peaceful  centuries  has  extinguished  the  ran- 
cor of  ancient  hostility  ;  and  the  warriors  of 
Granada,  once  the  objects  of  bigot  detestation, 
are  now  often  held  up  by  Spanish  poets  as 
mirrors  of  chivalric  virtue. 

None  have  been  the  theme  of  higher  eulogy 
than  the  illustrious  line  of  the  Abencerrages, 
who  in  the  proud  days  of  Moslem  domination 
were  the  soulof  everything  noble  and  chival- 
ric. The  veterans  of  the  family  sat  in  the  royal 
council,  and  were  foremost  in  devising  heroic 
enterprises  to  carry  dismay  into  the  Christian 
territories  ;  and  what  the  veterans  devised  the 
young  men  of  the  name  were  foremost  to  exe- 
cute. In  all  adventures,  enterprises,  and  hair- 
breadth hazards,  the  Abencerrages  were  sure 
to  win  the  brightest  laurels.  In  the  tilt  and 
tourney,  in  the  riding  at  the  ring,  the  dar- 
ing bull-fight,  and  all  other  recreations  which 


368 


'RecoUecttons  of  tbe  BIbambra 


bore  an  affinity  to  war,  the  Abencerrages  car- 
ried off  the  palm.  None  equalled  them  for 
splendor  of  array,  for  noble  bearing,  and  glori- 
ous horsemanship.  Their  open-handed  munifi- 
cence made  them  the  idols  of  the  people  ;  their 
magnanimity  and  perfect  faith  gained  the  ad- 
miration of  the  high-minded.  Never  did  they 
decry  the  merits  of  a  rival,  nor  betray  the  con- 
fidings  of  a  friend  ;  and  the  word  of  an  Aben- 
cerrage  was  a  guaranty  never  to  be  doubted. 

And  then  their  devotion  to  the  fair  !  Never 
did  Moorish  beauty  consider  the  fame  of  her 
charms  established,  until  she  had  an  Abencer- 
rage  for  a  lover  ;  and  never  did  an  Abencerrage 
prove  recreant  to  his  vows.  lyovely  Granada  ! 
City  of  delights  !  Who  ever  bore  the  favors 
of  thy  dames  more  proudly  on  their  casques, 
or  championed  them  more  gallantly  in  the 
chivalrous  tilts  of  the  Vivarambla  ?  Or  who 
ever  made  thy  moon-lit  balconies,  thj*^  gardens 
of  myrtles  and  roses,  of  oranges,  citrons, 
and  pomegranates,  respond  to  more  tender 
serenades  ? 

Such  were  the  fancies  I  used  to  conjure  up 
as  I  sat  in  the  beautiful  hall  of  the  Abencer- 
rages, celebrated  in  the  tragic  story  of  that 
devoted  race,  where  thirty-six  of  its  bravest 
cavaliers  were  treacherously  sacrificed  to  ap- 
pease the  jealous  fears  of  a  tyrant.     The  foun- 


w 


1{ecollectlon0  ot  Xbe  Blbambra 


369 


tain  which  once  ran  red  with  their  blood,  throws 
lip  a  sparkling  jet,  and  spreads  a  dewy  freshness 
through  the  hall  ;  but  a  deep  stain  on  the  mar- 
ble pavement  is  still  pointed  out  as  a  sanguinary 
record  of  the  massacre.  The  truth  of  the  re- 
cord has  been  called  in  question,  but  I  regarded 
it  with  the  same  determined  faith  with  which  I 
contemplated  the  stains  of  Rizzio's  blood  on 
the  floor  of  the  palace  of  Holy  rood.  I  thank 
no  one  for  enlightening  my  credulity  on  points 
of  poetical  belief.  It  is  like  robbing  the  statue 
of  Memnon  of  its  mysterious  music.  Dispel 
historical  illusions,  and  there  is  an  end  to  half 
the  charms  of  travelling. 

The  hall  of  the  Abencerrages  is  connected, 
moreover,'  with  the  recollection  of  one  of  the 
sweetest  evenings  and  sweetest  scenes  I  ever 
enjoyed  in  Spain.  It  was  a  beautiful  summer 
evening,  when  the  moon  shone  down  into  the 
Court  of  Lions,  lighting  up  its  sparkli  iff  foun- 
tain. I  was  seated  with  a  few  companions  in 
the  hall  in  question,  listening  to  those  tradi- 
tional ballads  and  romances  i  i  which  the 
Spaniards  delight.  They  were  sung  to  the 
accompaniment  of  the  guitar,  by  one  of  the 
most  gifted  and  fascinating  beings  that  I  ever 
met  ^ith  even  among  the  fascinating  daugh- 
ters of  Spain.  She  was  3'oung  and  beautiful, 
and  light  and  ethereal,  full  of  fire,  and  spirit, 

VOL.  11.— 24 


370 


1Rccollcctiov9  of  tbe  Blbambra 


and  pure  enthusiasm.  She  wore  the  fanciful 
Andalusian  dress,  touched  the  guitar  with 
speaking  eloquence,  improvised  with  wonder- 
ful facility  ;  anc',  as  she  became  excited  by  her 
theme,  or  by  the  rapt  attention  of  her  auditors, 
would  pour  forth,  in  the  richest  and  most  melo- 
dious strains,  a  succession  of  couplets,  full  of 
striking  description,  or  Stirling  narrative,  and 
composed,  as  I  was  assured,  at  the  moment. 
Most  of  these  were  suggested  by  the  place,  and 
related  to  the  ancient  glories  of  Granada  and 
the  prowess  of  her  chivalry.  The  Abencer- 
rages  were  her  favorite  heroes  ;  she  felt  a  wo- 
man's admiration  of  their  gallant  courtesy  and 
high-souled  honor ;  and  it  was  touching  and 
inspiring  to  hear  the  praises  of  that  generous 
but  devoted  race  chanted  in  this  fated  hall  of 
their  calamity,  by  the  lips  of  Spanish  beauty. 
Among  the  subjects  of  which  she  treated, 
was  a  tale  of  Moslem  honor  and  old-fashioned 
courtesy,  which  made  a  strong  impression  on 
me.  She  disclaimed  all  merit  of  invention, 
however,  and  said  she  had  merely  dilated  into 
verse  a  popular  tradition  ;  and,  indeed,  I  have 
since  found  the  main  facts  inserted  at  the  end 
of  Conde's  History  of  the  Domination  of  the 
Arabs,  and  ihe  story  itself  embodied  in  the 
form  of  an  episode  in  the  Diana  of  Monte- 
mayoi.     From  these  sources  I  have  drav/n  it 


VecoUcctione  ot  tbe  filbambra 


371 


forth,  and  ende**vored  to  shape  it  according  to 
my  recollection  of  the  version  of  the  beautiful 
minstrel  ;  but  alas  i  what  can  supply  the  want 
of  that  voice,  that  look,  that  form,  that  action, 
whicti  gave  magical  efxect  to  her  chant,  and 
held  every  one  rapt  in  breathless  admiration ! 
Should  this  mere  travestie  of  her  inspired  num- 
bers ever  meet  her  eye,  in  her  stately  abode  at 
Granada,  may  it  meet  with  that  indulgence 
which  belongs  to  her  benignant  nature.  Happy 
should  I  be,  if  it  could  awaken  in  her  bosom 
one  kind  recollection  of  the  stranger,  for  whose 
gratification  she  did  not  think  it  beneath  her  to 
exert  those  fascinating  powers,  in  the  moon-lit 
halls  of  the  Alhambra. 

THK  ABENCERRAGK. 


On  the  summit  of  a  craggy  hill,  a  spur  of 
the  mountains  of  Ronda,  stands  the  castle  of 
AUora,  now  a  mere  ruin,  infested  by  bats  and 
owlets,  but  in  old  times,  a  strong  border-hold 
which  kept  watch  upon  the  warlike  kingdom 
of  Granada,  and  held  the  Moors  in  check.  It 
was  a  post  always  confided  to  some  well-tried 
comihander,  and  at  the  time  of  which  we  treat 
was  held  by  Rodrigo  de  Narvaez,  alcayde,  or 
military  governor  of  Antiquera.  It  was  a 
frontier  post  of  his  command ;  but  he  passed 


372 


Vecollectiona  o(  tbe  BIbamt>pa 


most  of  his  time  there,  because  its  situation  on 
the  borders  gave  frequent  opportunity  for  those 
adventurous  exploits  in  which  the  Spanish 
chivalry  delighted. 

He  was  a  veteran,  famed  among  both  Moors 
and  Christians,  not  only  for  deeds  of  arms,  but 
for  that  magnanimous  courtesy  which  should 
ever  be  entwined  with  the  stern  virtues  of  the 
soldier. 

His  garrison  consisted  of  fifty  chosen  men, 
well  appointed  and  well  mounted,  with  which 
he  maintained  such  vigilant  watch  that  nothing 
could  escape  his  eye.  While  some  remained 
on  guard  in  the  oastle,  he  would  sally  forth 
with  others,  prowling  about  the  highways,  the 
paths  and  defiles  of  the  mountains,  by  day  and 
night,  and  now  and  then  making  a  daring  foray 
into  the  very  Vega  of  Granada. 

On  a  fair  and  beautiful  night  in  summer, 
when  the  moon  was  in  the  full,  and  the  fresh- 
ness of  the  evening  breeze  had  tempered  the 
heat  of  day,  the  rlcayde,  v/ith  nine  of  his  cava- 
liers, was  going  the  rounds  of  the  mountains  in 
quest  of  adventures.  They  rode  silently  and 
cautiously,  for  k  was  a  night  to  tempt  others 
abroad,  and  they  mighi;  be  r  -erheard  by  Moor- 
ish scout  or  traveller  ;  they  kept  along  ravines 
and  hollow  ways,  moreover,  lest  they  should 
be  betrayed  by  the  glittering  of  the  moon  upon 


Ytecollectiottd  of  tbe  Bibambra 


373 


their  armor.  Coming  to  a  fork  in  the  road, 
the  alcayde  ordered  five  of  his  cavaliers  to  take 
one  of  the  branches,  while  he,  with  the  remain- 
ing four,  would  take  the  other.  Should  either 
party  be  in  danger,  the  blast  of  a  horn  was  to  be 
the  signal  for  succor.  The  party  of  five  had 
not  proceeded  far,  when,  in  passing  through  a 
defile,  they  heard  the  voice  of  a  man  sing- 
ing. Concealing  themselves  among  trees,  they 
awaited  his  approach.  The  moon,  which  left 
the  grove  in  shadow,  shone  full  upon  his  per- 
son, as  he  slowly  advanced,  mounted  on  a 
dapple  gray  steed  of  powerful  frame  and  gen- 
erous spirit,  ari  magnificently  caparisoned. 
He  was  a  Moorish  cavalier  of  noble  demeanor 
and  graceful  carriage,  arrayed  in  a  marlota,  or 
tunic,  and  an  albomoz  of  crimson  damask 
fringed  with  gold.  His  Tunisian  turban,  of 
many  folds,  was  of  stripped  silk  and  cotton, 
bordered  with  a  golden  fringe  ;  at  his  girdle 
hung  a  Damascus  scim-  ^.r,  with  loops  and 
tassels  of  silk  and  gold.  On  his  left  arm  he 
bore  an  ample  target,  and  his  right  hand  grasped 
a  long,  double-pointed,  lance.  Apparently 
dreaming  of  no  danger,  he  sat  negligently  on 
his  steed,  gazing  on  the  moon,  and  singing,  with 
a  sweet  and  manly  voice,  a  Moorish  love-ditty. 
Just  opposite  the  grove  where  the  cavaliers 
were  v'^oncealed,  the  horse  turned  aside  to  drink 


374 


'Recol(ect<on0  ot  tbe  fllbair.dra 


at  a  small  fountain  in  a  rock  beside  the  road. 
His  rider  threw  the  re  ins  on  his  neck  to  let  him 
drink  at  his  ease,  and  continued  his  song. 

The  cavaliers  whispered  with  each  other. 
Charmed  v/ith  the  gallant  and  gentle  appear- 
ance of  the  Moor,  they  determined  not  to  harm, 
but  capture  him  ;  an  easy  task,  as  they  sup- 
posed, in  his  negligent  mood.  Rushing  forth, 
therefore,  they  thought  to  surround,  and  take 
him  by  surprise.  Never  were  men  more  mis- 
taken. To  gather  up  his  reins,  wheel  round 
his  steed,  brace  his  buckler,  and  couch  his 
lance,  was  the  work  of  an  instant,  and  there 
he  sat,  fixed  like  a  castle  in  his  saddle. 

The  cavaliers  checked  their  steeds,  and  re- 
connoitred him  warily,  loath  to  come  to  an 
encounter  which  must  prove  fatal  to  him. 

The  Moor  now  held  a  parley.  "  If  ye  be 
true  knights,  and  seek  for  honorable  fame, 
come  on  singly,  and  I  will  meet  each  in  succes- 
sion ;  if  ye  be  mere  lurkers  of  the  road,  intent 
on  spoil,  come  all  at  once,  and  do  your  worst.** 

The  cavaliers  communed  together  for  a  mo* 
ment,  when  one,  parting  from  the  othei*s, 
advanced.  "Although  no  law  of  chivalry,'* 
said  he,  **  obliges  us  to  risk  the  loss  of  a  prize, 
when  fairly  in  our  power,  yet  we  willingly 
grant  as  a  courtesy  what  we  might  refuse  as  a 
right.     Valiant  Moor,  defend  thyself !  ** 


M'  !.. 


1{ecollectton0  of  tbe  aibambra 


375 


So  saying,  he  wheeled,  took  proper  distaiice, 
couched  his  lance,  and  putting  spurs  to  his 
horse,  made  at  the  stranger.  The  latter  met 
him  in  mid  career,  transpierced  him  with  his 
lance,  and  threw  him  from  his  saddle.  A 
second  and  a  third  succeeded,  but  were  un- 
horsed with  equal  facility,  and  thrown  to  the 
earth,  severely  wounded.  The  remaining  two, 
seeing  their  comrades  thus  roughly  treated, 
forgot  all  compact  of  courtesy,  and  charged 
both  at  once  upon  the  Moor.  He  parried  the 
thrust  of  one,  but  was  wounded  by  the  other 
in  the  thigh,  and  in  the  shock  and  confusion 
dropped  his  lance.  Thus  disarmed,  and  closely 
pressed,  he  pretended  to  fly,  and  was  hotly 
pursued.  Having  drawn  the  two  cavaliers 
some  distance  from  the  spot,  he  wheeled  short 
about,  with  one  of  those  dexterous  movements 
for  which  the  Moorish  horsemen  were  re- 
nowned ;  passed  swiftly  between  them,  swung 
himself  down  from  his  saddle,  so  as  to  catch 
up  his  lance,  then,  lightly  replacing  himself, 
turned  to  renew  the  combat. 

Seeing  him  thus  fresh  for  the  encounter,  as 
if  just  issued  from  his  tent,  one  of  the  cavaliers 
put  his  lips  to  his  horn,  and  blew  a  blast,  that 
soon  brought  the  alcayde  and  his  four  com- 
panions to  the  spot. 

Narvaez 


seeing  three  of  his  cavaliers  ex« 


376 


Vecollecttone  of  tbe  Blbambra 


,'-   ! 


,  i'     is'-* 


I. 


J 


tended  on  the  earth,  and  two  others  hotly 
engaged  with  the  Moor,  was  struck  with  ad- 
miration, and  Co  eted  a  contest  with  so  accom- 
plished a  warrior.  Interfering  in  the  fig  lit,  he 
.called  upon  his  followers  to  desist,  and  with 
courteous  words  invited  the  Moor  to  a  more 
equal  combat.  The  challenge  was  readily- 
accepted.  For  some  time  the  contest  was 
doubtful,  and  the  alcayde  had  need  of  all  his 
skill  and  strength  to  ward  of!  the  blows  of  his 
antagonist.  The  Moor,  however,  exhausted 
by  previous  fighting,  and  by  loss  of  blood,  no 
longer  sat  his  horse  firmly,  nor  managed  him 
with  his  wonted  skill.  Collecting  all  his  strength 
for  a  last  assault,  he  rose  in  his  stirrups,  and 
made  a  violent  thrust  with  his  lance  ;  the 
alcayde  recer'ved  it  upon  his  shield,  and  at  the 
same  time  woiuided  the  Moor  in  the  right  arm  ; 
then  closiijgv  in  the  shock,  grasped  him  in  his 
arms,  dragged  him  from  his  saddle,  and  fell 
with  him  to  the  earth  ;  when  putting  his  knee 
upon  his  breast,  and  his  dagger  to  his  throat, 
"  Cavalier,"  exclaimed  he,  *'  render  thyself  my 
prisoner,  for  thy  life  is  in  my  hands  !  *' 

"Kill  me,  rather,"  replied  the  Moor,  "for 
death  would  be  less  grievous  than  loss  of 
liberty."  i  fiif  f  rrn 

The  alcayde,  however,  with  the  clemency  of 
the  truly  brave,  assisted  hini  to  rise,  ministered 


ISecoUectionfl  of  tbe  Blbambra 


377 


to  his  wounds  with  his  own  hands,  and  had 
him  conveyed  with  great  care  to  the  caiitle  of 
Allora.  His  wounds  in  a  few  days  were  nearly 
curetl ;  but  the  deepest  had  lx;en  inflicted  on 
his  spirit.  He  was  constantly  buried  in  a  pro- 
found melancholy. 

The  alcayde,  who  had  conceived  a  great 
regard  for  him,  treated  him  mo*  is  a  friend 
than  a  captive,  and  tried  in  e\  e,  cheer 

him,    but  in  vain;    he  was  ai  .d  and 

moody,  and  when  on  the  battleiaent;.  of  the 
castle,  would  keep  his  eyes  turned  to  the  south, 
with  a  fixed  and  wistful  gaze. 

"How  is  this,"  exclaimed  the  alcayde,  re- 
proachfully, "that  you,  who  were  so  hardy 
and  fearless  in  the  field,  should  lose  all  spirit 
when  a  captive  ?  If  any  secret  grief  preys  on 
your  heart,  confide  it  to  me,  as  to  a  friend,  and  I 
promise  on  the  faith  of  a  cavalier  that  you  shall 
have  no  cause  to  repent  the  disclosure. ' ' 

The  Moorish  knight  kissed  the  hand  of  the 
alcayde.  **  Noble  cavalier,"  said  he,  "that  I 
am  cast  down  in  spirit,  is  not  from  my  wounds, 
which  are  slight ;  nor  from  my  captivit} ,  for 
your  kindness  has  i:t)bbed  it  of  all  gloom  ;  nor 
from  my  defeat,  for  to  be  conquered  by  so  ac- 
complished and  renowned  a  cavalier  is  no  dis- 
grace. But  to  explain  the  cause  of  my  grief, 
it  is  necessar)'  to  give  some  particulars  of  my 


v^ 


71 


^> 


I)     e: 


:^:> 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


|so   '""^™     M^H 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


||L25  ||l.4   1 1.6 

M 

6"     

► 

SJ 


\ 


RV 


\\ 


>"^V° 


^.1>' 


<^ 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14380 

(716)  872-4S03 


*1 


378 


'RecoUectfona  ot  tbe  Blbambra 


1  ^?  ■■ . 


I' 

'I 


story  ;  and  this  I  am  moved  to  do  by  the  sym- 
pathy you  have  manifested  towards  me,  and 
the  magnanimity  that  shines  through  all  your 
actions. 

**  Know  then,  that  my  name  is  Abendaraez, 
and  that  I  am  of  the  noble  but  unfortunate  line 
of  the  Abencerrages.  You  have  doubtless 
heard  of  the  destruction  that  fell  upon  our  race. 
Charged  with  treasonable  designs,  of  which 
they  were  entirely  innocent,  many  of  them 
were  beheaded,  the  rest  banished  ;  so  that  not 
an  Abencerrage  was  permitted  to  remain  in 
Granada,  excepting  my  father  and  my  uncle, 
whose  innocence  was  proved,  even  to  the  satis- 
faction of  their  persecutors.  It  was  decreed,; 
however,  that,  should  they  have  children,  the 
sons  should  be  educated  at  a  distance  from 
Granada,  and  the  daughters  should  be  married 
out  of  the  kingdom. 

"  Conformably  to  this  decree,  I  was  sent, 
while  yet  an  infant,  to  be  reared  in  the  fortress 
of  Cartama,  the  alcayde  of  which  was  an 
ancient  friend  of  my  father.  He  had  no  chil- 
dren, and  received  me  into  his  family  as  his 
own  child,  treating  me  with  the  kindness  and 
affection  of  a  father ;  and  I  grew  up  in  the 
belief  that  he  really  was  such.  A  few  years 
afterward,  his  wife  gave  birth  to  a  daughter, 
but  his  tenderness  toward  me  continued  undi- 


'Recollections  or  tbe  Blbambra 


379 


minished.  I  thus  grew  up  with  Xarisa,  for  sb 
the  infant  daughter  of  the  alcayde  was  called, 
as  her  own  brother.  I  beheld  her  charms  un- 
folding, as  it  were,  leaf  by  leaf,  like  the  morning 
rose,  each  moment  disclosing  fresh  sweetness 
and  beauty,  and  t)iought  the  growing  passion 
which  I  felt  for  her  was  mere  fraternal  affection. 

**  At  length  one  day  I  accidently  overheard 
a  conversation  between  the  alcayde  and  his 
confidential  domestic,  of  which  I  found  myself 
the  subject. 

*'  In  this  I  learnt  the  secret  of  my  real  paren- 
tage, which  the  alcayde  had  withheld  from  nie 
as  long  as  possible,  through  reluctance  to  in- 
form me  of  my  being  of  a  proscribed  and 
unlucky  race.  It  was  time  now,  he  thought, 
to  apprise  me  of  the  truth,  that  I  might  adopt 
a  career  in  life. 

"I  retired  with'' at  letting  it  be  perceived 
that  I  had  overheard  the  conversation.  The 
intelligence  it  conveyed  would  have  over- 
whelmed me  at  an  earlier  period  ;  but  now  the 
intimation  that  Xarisa  was  not  my  sister,  oper- 
ated like  magic.  In  an  instant  the  brotherly 
affection  with  which  my  heart  at  times  had 
throbbed  almost  to  excess,  was  transformed 
into  ardent  love. 

"  I  sought  Xarisa  in  the  garden,  where  I 
found  her  in  a  bower  of  jessamines,  arranging 


m 


f 


li 


38o 


Vecollectlons  ot  tbe  Blbambra 


her  beautiful  hair  in  the  mirror  of  a  crystal 
fountain.  I  ran  to  her  with  open  arms,  and 
was  received  with  a  sister's  embraces  ;  upbraid- 
ing me  for  leaving  her  so  long  alone. 

**  We  seated  ourselves  by  the  fountain,  and 
I  hastened  to  reveal  the  secret  conversation  I 
had  overheard. 

*'  *  Alas !  *  cried  she,  *  then  our  happiness  is 
at  an  end  !  * 

**  *  How  ! '  cried  I,  *  wilt  thou  cease  to  love 
me  because  I  am  not  thy  brother?  * 

"  *  Alas,  no !  *  replied  she,  gently  withdraw- 
ing from  my  embrace,  *  but  when  it  is  once  made 
known  "'e  are  not  brother  and  sister,  we  shall  no 
longer  be  permitted  to  be  thus  always  together.* 

"In  fact,  from  that  moment  our  intercourse 
took  a  new  character.  We  met  often  at  the 
fountain  among  the  jessamines,  but  Xarisa  no 
longer  advanced  with  open  arms  to  meet  me. 
She  became  reserved  and  silent,  and  would 
blush,  and  cast  down  her  eyes,  when  I  ^  ed 
myself  beside  her.  My  heart  became  &  ^.ey 
to  the  thousand  doubts  and  fears  that  ever  at- 
tend upon  true  love.  Restless  and  uneasy,  I 
looked  back  with  regret  to  our  unreserved  in- 
tercourse when  we  supposed  ourselves  brother 
and  sister ;  yet  I  would  not  have  had  the  rela- 
tionship true,  for  the  world. 

**  While  matters  were  in  this  state  between 


vv 


'Recollections  of  tbe  Blbainl)ra 


881 


US,  an  order  came  from  the  King  of  Granada 
for  the  alcayde  to  take  command  of  the  fortress 
of  Coyn,  on  the  Christian  frontier.  He  pre- 
pared to  remove,  with  all  his  family,  but  sig- 
nified that  I  should  remain  at  Cartama.  I 
declared  that  I  could  not  be  parted  from  Xarisa. 

*  That  is  the  very  cause,'  said  he,  '  why  I  leave 
thee  behind.  It  is  time,  Abendaraez,  thou 
shouldest  know  the  secret  of  thy  birth.  Thou 
art  no  son  of  mine,  neither  is  Xarisa  thy  sister.* 

*  I  know  it  all,'  exclaimed  I,  *  and  I  love  her 
with  tenfold  the  affection  of  a  brother.  You 
have  brought  us  up  together ;  you  have  made 
us  necessary  to  each  other's  happiness  ;  our 
hearts  have  entwined  themselves  with  our 
growth  ;  do  not  tear  them  asunder.  Fill  up  the 
measure  of  your  kindness ;  be  indeed  a  father 
to  me,  by  giving  me  Xarisa  for  my  wife.' 

"The  brow  of  the  alcayde  darkened  as  I 
spoke.  *  Have  I  then  been  deceived  ? '  said 
he.  *  Have  those  nurtured  in  my  very  bosom 
been  conspiring  against  me  ?  Is  this  your  re- 
turn for  my  paternal  tenderness? — ^to  beguile 
the  affections  of  my  child,  and  teach  her  to 
deceive  her  father  ?  It  would  have  been  cause 
enough  to  refuse  thee  the  hand  of  my  daughter, 
that  thou  wert  of  a  proscribed  race,  who  can 
never  approach  the  walls  of  Granada;  this, 
however,  I  might  have  passed  over,  but  never 


383 


'Rccollectiona  ot  tbe  BlbamC;a 


will  I  give  my  daughter  to  a  man  who  has 
endeavored  to  win  her  from  me  by  deception. ' 

*•  All  my  attempts  to  vindicate  myself  and 
Xarisa  were  unavailing.  I  retired  in  anguish 
from  his  presence,  and  seeking  Xarisa,  told 
her  of  this  blow,  which  was  worse  than  death 
to  me.  *  Xarisa,'  said  I  '  we  part  forever  !  I 
shall  never  see  thee  more  !  Thy  father  will 
guard  thee  rigidly.  Thy  beauty  and  his 
wealth  will  soon  attract  some  happier  rival,  and 
I  shall  be  forgotten  !  * 

"Xarisa  reproached  my  want  of  faith,  and 
promised  eternal  constancy,  I  still  doubted 
and  desponded,  until,  moved  by  my  anguish 
and  despair,  she  agreed  to  a  secret  union.  Our 
espousals  made,  we  parted,  with  a  promise  on 
her  part  to  send  me  word  from  Coyn,  should 
her  father  absent  himself  from  the  fortress. 
The  very  day  after  our  secret  nuptials,  I  beheld 
the  whole  train  of  the  alcayde  depart  from 
Cartama,  nor  would  he  admit  me  to  his  pres- 
ence, nor  permit  me  to  bid  farewell  to  Xarisa. 
I  remained  at  Cartama,  somewhat  pacified  in 
spirit  by  our  secret  bond  of  unioxi ;  but  every- 
thing around  fed  my  passion  and  reminded  me 
of  Xarisa.  I  saw  the  window  at  which  I  had 
so  often  beheld  her.  I  wandered  through  the 
apartment  she  had  inhabited  ;  the  chamber  in 
which  she  had  slept.     I  visited  the  bower  of 


VecoUecttone  of  tbe  Blbambra 


383 


jessamines,  and  lingered  beside  the  fountain 
in  which  she,  had  delighted.  Everything  re- 
called her  to  my  imagination,  and  filled  my 
heart  with  melancholy. 

"At  length  a  confidential  servant  arrived 
with  a  letter  from  her,  informing  me  that  her 
father  was  to  depart  that  day  for  Granada,  on  a 
short  absence,  inviting  me  to  hasten  to  Coyn, 
describing  a  secret  portal  at  which  I  should 
apply,  and  the  signal  by  which  I  would  obtain 
admittance. 

**  If  ever  you  have  loved,  most  valiant 
alcaj'de,  you  may  judge  of  my  transport. 
That  very  night  I  arrayed  myself  in  gallant 
attire,  to  pay  due  honor  to  my  bride,  and  arm- 
ing myself  against  any  casual  attack,  issued 
forth  privately  from  Cartama.  You  know  the 
rest,  and  by  what  sad  fortune  of  war  I  find  my- 
self, instead  of  a  happy  bridegroom  in  the 
nuptial  bower  of  Coyn,  vanquished,  wounded, 
and  a  prisoner  within  the  walls  of  AUora.  The 
term  of  absence  of  the  father  of  Xarisa  is 
nearly  expired.  Within  three  days  he  will  re- 
turn to  Coyn,  and  our  meeting  will  no  longer  be 
possible.  Judge  then,  whether  I  grieve  without 
cause  and  whether  I  may  not  well  be  excused 
for  showing  impatience  under  confinement." 

Don  Rodrigo  was  greatly  moved  by  this 
recital,  for,  though  more  used  to  rugged  war 


3H 


'Recollectiona  et  tbe  aibambra 


than  scenes  of  amorous  softness,  he  was  of  a 
kind  and  generous  nature. 

"  Abendaraez,"  said  he,  *' I  did  not  seek 
thy  confidence  to  gratify  an  idle  curiosity.  It 
grieves  me  much  that  the  j^ood  fortune  which 
delivered  thee  into  my  hands,  should  have 
marred  so  fair  an  enterprise.  Give  me  thy 
faith,  as  a  true  knight,  to  return  prisoner  to 
my  castle,  within  three  days,  and  I  will  grant 
thee  permission  to  accomplish  thy  nuptials.*' 

The  Abencerrage,  in  a  transport  of  gratitude^ 
would  have  thrown  himself  at  his  feet,  but  the 
alcayde  prevented  him.  Calling  in  his  cava- 
liers, he  took  Abendaraez  by  the  right  hand, 
in  their  presence,  exclaiming  solemnly,  '*  You 
promise,  on  the  faith  of  a  cavalier,  to  return  to 
my  castle  of  AUora  within  three  days,  and 
render  yourself  my  prisoner." 

Then,  said  the  alcayde,  "Go!  and  may 
good  fortune  attend  you.  If  you  require  any 
safeguard,  I  and  my  cavaliers  are  ready  to  be 
your  companions," 

The  Abencerrage  kissed  the  hand  of  the 
alcaj'de,  in  grateful  acknowledgment.  "Give 
me,  said  he,  *'  my  own  armor  and  my  steed, 
and  I  require  no  guard.  It  is  not  likely  that  I 
shall  again  meet  with  so  valorous  a  foe.*' 

The  shades  of  night  had  fallen,  when  the 
tramp  of  the  dapple-gray  steed  resounded  over 


VecoIIcctlons  ot  tbe  Bibambra 


385 


the  drawbridge,  and  immediately  afterwards, 
the  light  clatter  of  hoofs  along  the  road  bespoke 
the  fleetness  with  which  the  youthful  lover 
hastened  to  his  bride.  It  was  deep  night  when 
the  Moor  arrived  at  the  castle  of  Coyn.  He 
silently  and  cautiously  walked  his  panting 
steed  under  its  dark  walls,  and  having  nearly 
passed  round  them,  came  to  the  portal  denoted 
by  Xarisa.  He  paused,  looked  round  to  see 
that  he  was  not  observed,  and  knocked  three 
times  with  the  butt  of  his  lance.  In  a  little 
while  the  portal  was  timidly  unclosed  by  the 
duenna  of  Xarisa.  "Alas!  Sefior,"  said  she, 
*'what  has  detained  you  thus  long?  Every 
night  have  I  watched  for  you  ;  and  my  lady  is 
sick  at  heart  with  doubt  and  anxiety." 

The  Abencerrage  hung  his  lance  and  shield 
and  scimitar  against  the  wall,  and  followed  the 
duenna,  with  silent  steps  up  a  winding  stair- 
case, to  the  apartment  of  Xarisa.  Vain  would 
be  the  attempt  to  describe  the  raptures  of  that 
meeting.  Time  flew  too  swiftly,  and  th. 
Abencerrage  had  nearly  forgotten,  until  too 
late,  his  promise  to  return  a  prisoner  to  the 
alcayde  of  AUora.  The  recollection  of  it  came 
to  him  with  a  pang,  and  woke  him  from  his 
dream  of  bliss.  Xarisa  saw  his  altered  looks, 
and  heard  with  alarm  his  stifled  sighs  ;  but  her 
countenance  brightened  when  she  heard  the 


VOL.  II.- 


386 


'RecoUectione  o(  tbe  Blbambra 


•  1 


cause.  "  I^et  not  thy  spirit  be  cast  down,*' 
said  she,  throwing  her  white  arms  around  him. 
"  I  have  the  keys  of  my  father's  treasures ; 
send  ransom  more  than  enough  to  satisfy  the 
Christian,  and  remain  with  me." 

**  No,"  said  Abendaraez,  "  I  have  given  my 
word  to  return  in  person,  and,  like  a  true 
knight,  must  fulfil  my  promise.  After  that, 
fortune  must  do  with  me  as  it  pleases." 

"Then,"  said  Xarisa,  *' I  will  accompan)'' 
thee.  Never  shalt  thou  return  a  prisoner,  and 
I  remain  at  liberty." 

The  Abencerrage  was  transported  with  joy 
at  this  new  proof  of  devotion  in  his  beautiful 
bride.  All  preparations  were  speedily  made 
for  their  departure.  Xarisa  mounted  behind 
the  Moor,  on  his  powerful  steed  ;  they  left  the 
castle  walls  before  daybreak,  nor  did  they 
pause,  until  they  arrived  at  the  gate  of  the 
castle  of  AUora. 

Alighting  in  the  court,  the  Abencerrage  sup- 
ported the  steps  of  his  trembling  bride,  who 
remained  closely  veiled,  into  the  presence  of 
Rodrigo  de  Narvaez,  '*  Behold,  valiant  al- 
cayde!"  said  he,  **  the  way  in  which  an 
Abencerrage  keeps  his  word.  I  promised  to 
return  to  thee  a  prisoner,  but  I  deliver  two 
captives  into  thy  power.  Behold  Xarisa,  and 
judge  whether  I  grieved  without  reason  over 


ItccolUctiond  of  tbf  Blbambra 


3*: 


the  loss  of  such  a  treasure.  Receive  us  as 
thine  own,  for  I  confide  my  life  and  her  honor 
to  thy  hands." 

The  alcayde  was  lost  in  admiration  of  the 
beauty  of  the  lady,  and  the  noble  spirit  of  the 
Moor.  "  I  know  not,"  said  he,  "  which  of 
you  surpasses  the  other  ;  but  I  know  that  my 
castle  is  graced  and  honored  by  your  presence. 
Consider  it  your  own,  while  you  deign  to  reside 
with  me." 

For  several  days  the  lovers  remained  at 
Allora,  happy  in  each  other's  love,  and  in  the 
friendship  of  the  alcayde.  The  latter  wrote  a 
letter  to  the  Moorish  king  of  Granada,  relating 
the  whole  event,  extolling  the  valor  and  good 
faith  of  the  Abencerrage,  and  craving  for  him 
the  royal  countenance. 

The  king  was  moved  by  the  story,  and 
pleased  with  an  opportunity  of  showing  atten- 
tion to  the  wishes  of  a  gallant  and  chivalrous 
enemy  ;  for  though  he  had  often  suffered  from 
the  prowess  of  Don  Rodrigo  de  Narvaez,  he 
admired  his  heroic  character.  Calling  the  al- 
cayde of  Coyn  into  his  presence,  he  gave  him 
the  letter  to  read.  The  alcayde  turned  pale 
and  trembled  with  rage  on  the  perusal.  "  Re- 
strain thine  anger,"  said  the  king  ;  *'  there  is 
nothing  that  the  alcayde  of  Allora  could  ask, 
that  I  would  not  grant,  if  in  my  power.     Go 


388 


'Recollections  of  tbe  Blbambra 


1  ^ 
f 


'■'  li 


t 


thou  to  Allora  ;  pardon  thy  children  ;  take 
them  to  thy  home.  I  receive  this  Abencerrage 
into  my  favor,  and  it  will  be  my  delight  to  heap 
benefits  upon  you  all." 

The  kindling  ire  of  the  alcayde  was  suddenly 
appeased.  He  hastened  to  Allora,  and  folded 
his  children  to  his  bosom,  who  would  have 
fallen  at  his  feet.  Rodrigo  de  Narvaez  gave 
liberty  to  his  prisoner  without  ransom,  de- 
manding merely  a  promise  of  his  friendship. 
He  accompanied  the  youthful  couple  and  their 
father  to  Coyn,  where  their  nuptials  were  cele- 
brated with  great  rejoicings.  When  the  festivi- 
ties were  over,  Don  Rodrigo  returned  to  his 
fortress  of  Allora. 

After  his  departure,  the  alcayde  of  Coyn  ad- 
dressed his  children  :  "  To  your  hands,"  said 
he,  "I  confide  the  disposition  of  my  wealth. 
One  of  the  first  things  I  charge  you,  is  not  to 
forget  the  ransom  you  owe  to  the  alcayde  of 
Allora.  His  magnanimity  you  can  never  re- 
pay, but  you  can  prevent  it  from  wronging  him 
of  his  just  dues.  Give  him,  moreover,  your 
entire  friendship,  for  he  merits  it  fully,  though 
of  a  different  faith." 

The  Abencerrage  thanked  him  for  his  propo- 
sition, which  so  truly  accorded  with  his  own 
wishes.  He  took  a  large  sum  of  gold,  and  in- 
closed it  in  a  rich  coffer  ;  and,  on  his  own  part, 


\v. 


ItecolUcUone  oX  tbe  Blbambra 


389 


sent  six  beautiful  horses,  superbly  caparisoned  ; 
with  six  shields  and  lances,  mounted  and  em- 
bossed with  gold.  The  beautiful  Xarisa,  at 
the  same  time,  wrote  a  letter  to  the  alcayde, 
filled  with  expressions  of  gratitude  and  friend- 
ship, and  sent  him  a  box  of  fragrant  cypress- 
wood,  containing  linen  of  the  finest  quality,  for 
his  person.  The  alcayde  disposed  of  the  pres- 
ent in  a  characteristic  manner.  The  horses 
and  armor  he  shared  among  the  cavaliers  who 
had  accompanied  him  on  the  night  of  the  skir- 
mish. The  box  of  cypress- wood  and  its  con- 
tents he  retained,  for  the  sake  of  the  beautiful 
Xarisa,  and  sent  her,  by  the  hands  of  the 
messenger,  the  sum  of  gold  paid  as  a  ransom, 
entreating  her  to  receive  it  as  a  wedding-pres- 
ent. This  courtesy  and  magnanimity  raised 
the  character  of  the  alcayde  Rodrigo  de  Nar- 
vaez  still  higher  in  the  estimation  of  the  Moors, 
who  extolled  him  as  a  perfect  mirror  of  chival- 
ric  virtue;  and  from  that  time  forward  there 
was  a  continual  exchange  of  good  offices 
between  them. 

Those  who  would  read  the  foregoing  story 
decked  out  with  poetic  grace  in  the  pure  Cas- 
tilian,  let  them  seek  it  in  the  Diana  of  Mon- 
temayor. 

THB  END. 


-Ill 


